ON THE CAM.

*

ON THE CAM.

LECTURES ON THE UNIVERSITY OF CAMBRIDGE
IN ENGLAND.,

BY WILLIAM EVERETT, M.A.,

TRIN. COLL.. CAM.

NEW EDITION.

LONDON :
WARD, LOCK, AND TYLER,

PATERNOSTER ROW.
1869.

TO THE

REV. JAMES WALKER, D.D., LL.D.,

EX-PBESIDEM OF HARVARD CO1I.EOE,

MY CONSTANT MODEL OP CHRISTIAN ELOQUENCE AND

ACADEMIC CULTURE, AND THE
BELOVED FRIEND OF TWO FORMER HOLDERS OF THE

SAME HONOURABLE POSITION,

WHOSE EXAMPLE WAS MY BEST INSTRUCTION

IN COLLEGE, AND WHOSE MEMORY

IS AMONG MY CHOICEST

TREASURES.

PREFACE TO THE ENGLISH EDITION.

ITS jump :" Adams and Leverrier
sprang at a star simultaneously, and
while " A Don " was delighting Eng-
land in general and old Cantabs in
particular with " Sketches " sharp, faithful, and y.et
most artistic, like photographs on ivory, touched
by the brush of a Master, a younger son of Cam-
bridge was astonishing his countrymen on the
other side of the Atlantic with a series of frank,
outspoken lectures upon the studies, habits, amuse-
ments, and characteristics of his Britisher brothers.
We took the book up with the expectation of
finding that Mr. Everett had acted towards us
as full-fledged cuckoos towards their brothers and
sisters, though we had reasons for suspecting that
the notes he poured forth the while would be of
no cuckoo character ; we put it dowiv in a state
of utter bewilderment. What ! Could an orator,

viii Preface to the

addressing an American audience, in the present
state of feeling, about us and our institutions,
which rankles in their hearts, cry us up, express
his good-will towards us, — nay, hold up one of
our Universities as a pattern to their own colleges,
and escape the tar-pot, the feather-bag, and the
rail ?

One of three things could alone account for the
phenomenon : either the speaker's eloquence held
his audience spell-bound ; or, Boston, where the
lectures were delivered, is an exceptional and
Anglo-maniac town ; or, our preconceived ideas
of the state of society in America were wrong
altogether.

When we have somewhat recovered from this
first surprise, a second presents itself ; it is won-
derful that this fearless speaker should have been
listened to, when he confessed that on one or two
points the colleges of America might take a lesson
from those of the old country, — but how did he
manage to own such an heretical truth to himself?
Is he a lukewarm cosmopolitan? On the con-
trary, he is a red-hot patriot ; stars and stripes to
the back-bone. Perhaps he has resided for many
years in England ? Only the time necessary for
his University career, added to which, he is still a
very young man, not having yet reached the age

English Edition. ix

at which the faiths and enthusiasms often begin to
peel off, carrying some of the prejudices with them.
No ; he is simply a scholar, with a keen insight, a
comprehensive intellect, a calm judgment, a warm
heart, and the gift of the Gods ; and he is also an
Everett.

When one who has devoted his life to study and
the accumulation of knowledge passes away, we
are sometimes inclined to look upon his labours as
vain. As the wise man dieth, so dieth the fool :
what good is there in storing the brain with varied
learning, when we cannot bequeath an atom of it
to those who come after us ? Why take pains to
pile up grains of golden sand below high-water
mark, when the rising tide is certain to sweep
them away with the first wave ? " Eat, drink,
and love ; the rest is not worth that /" Or, if we
do not care for self alone, let us gather tangible
wealth, which will benefit those we love when we
are gone, not the perishable riches of the under-
standing, which are annihilated with the brain
that held them. We forget that mental as well
as physical qualities are transmitted to our des-
cendants ; and that the man who leaves a family
behind him endows its members with many a
bequest of more real significance than money,
land, or social position. As gout, scrofula, con-

x Preface to the

sumption, idiotcy, are the prices paid by succeeding
generations for the physical vices of their ances-
tors, so will their moral and intellectual faculties
be affected by the self-discipline or lethargy of
those who have gone before them, and the enforced
celibacy of the only learned class in the middle
ages probably retarded the mental growth of the
world by centuries.

The gentleman who delivered the lectures
which lie before us has inherited the love of
learning and the gift of oratory which already
distinguish him. His father was Edward Everett,

O

a man famous in his own country for his learning
and eloquence, and well-known iu England as
the American Ambassador who conducted several
matters of dispute between the two countries
with a tact, judgment, and delicacy which at-
tracted universal applause and admiration. A
short summary of Mr. Edward Everett's career
will be interesting, as exemplifying the curious
changes to which the life of a public man in
America is subject. He was descended on the
father's side from Richard Everett, of Dedham,
one of the early settlers in New England, who had
served in the Low Countries. His mother was
a Hill ; so that he was an Englishman pur sang,
descended on both sides from ancestors of the first

English Edition. xi

Puritan emigration. His maternal grandfather,
Alexander Sears Hill, graduated at Harvard ;
his father was minister of the New South Church,
Boston ; retired, and was made a judge. He went
to a school kept by Ezekiel Webster, elder brother
of Daniel Webster, and once, when the school-
master was unable to attend to his duties, the
younger brother and future minister took his place
for a week. Edward Everett entered Harvard
College in 1807, graduated in 1811, and was
ordained in 1814, when he was appointed minister
of Brattle Square Church, Boston. In the fol-
lowing year he was called to the chair of Greek
professorship; then he went to Gottingen, re-
turning to America in 1819, when he entered
upon the duties of his professorship, and in the
next four years gave an impulse to the study of
Greek literature in America which is not yet lost.
In 1822 he married Charlotte Gray, daughter of
the late Hon. Peter Chardon Brookes. His
surviving children are three in number; one
daughter, married to Captain Wise, of the United
States' Navy; and two sons, the youngest of
whom, William Everett, is the present lecturer.
He was elected to Congress in 1824, when he
left his academic pursuits, and became, a States-
man, serving for ten years, through Mr. Adams'

xii Preface to the

administration, and part of that of General Jack-
son. In 1835 he was elected Governor of Massa-
chusetts ; a post which he held with honour to
himself and benefit to all for four years, when he
lost his re-election by one vote.

After this he was appointed minister to the Court
of St. James's, at that critical period when the
questions of the North-Eastern Boundary, the
Fisheries, the Caroline, the Creole, and other
delicate matters, stirred the public mind ; and that
the judgment, delicacy, and grace, with which he
discharged his diplomatic duties, were appreciated
in this country, was proved by the many marks
of respect which were paid him, including honor-
ary degrees conferred by Oxford, Cambridge, and
Dublin, while the repeated offers of the conduct
of diplomatic negotiations of a confidential nature,
made to him by the Lincoln government during
the late war, testified to the fact that his own
countrymen were impressed with the manner in
which he had upheld their interests.

In 1846 he returned to America, and was elected
president of his Alma Mater. At the death of Mr.
Webster he was made Secretary of State by Pre-
sident Fillmore ; but the administration changed,
and in 1853 he took his seat in the United States'
Senate, but was compelled to resign in 1854. Ten

English Edition. xiii

years later the people of Massachusetts chose him
for their First Presidential Elector, and in the
following year, 1865, on the 15th of January, he
died.

His youngest son, Mr. William Everett, the
author of the present Lectures, was a Bachelor
scholar of Trinity College, Cambridge. His
degree was a good one, as he took mathematical
honours, and was at the head of the second class
in the Classical Tripos. He has left a strong im-
pression of his powers of oratory — for the exercise
of which he found an arena in the debates at the
Union — upon his contemporaries at the Univer-
sity; and though a printed speech is like flat
champagne, the reader will be able to form some
idea of his eloquence from the noble perorations
of the Lectures before him.

There is no need to give any reasons for intro-
ducing these Lectures to the English Public;
Cambridge men will be curious to see how an
American was struck by the customs of their Uni-
versity, while any serious and genuine remarks
upon the relative positions of the two countries,
uttered by a clever man, a keen observer, as free
from prejudice as a partisan possibly can be, must
be generally interesting at the present time. Before
the civil war we were wonderfully indifferent about

xiv Preface to the

our relatives on the other side of the Atlantic ; we
looked upon them as a community of tenth-rate
Englishmen, who had slaves, shot one another in
the streets, were perpetually blaspheming in quaint
language, chewing tobacco and spitting, who re-
pudiated their public debts, and openly and gene-
rally prided themselves on their freedom from the
restraints of honour and honesty. We could hardly
recognize the fact of Washington Irving, Long-
fellow, Hawthorne, Prescott, and a few others,
being Americans, but looked upon them as Eng-
lishmen who had got out there in some abnormal
way. In short, our habitual idea of " Jonathan "
was as gross a caricature as the picture represented
to the minds of our grandfathers by the name of
" Monseer," or the notion Frenchmen yet have of
" John Bull." But the newspapers were so full
of America during the civil war, and the letters of
the " special correspondents " were so graphic and
amusing, that we were obliged to take some inte-
rest in the country where alone there was anything
exciting going on, and began to see that Mr.
Bright's proteges really were a considerable people,
who had a sort of government which was not en-
tirely a sham, who waged war on European prin-
ciples, and positively took prisoners, whom they
treated with average humanity. Our interest in

English Edition. xv

once aroused is not likely to flag; and

i we are too near relatives ever to like each

L very cordially — for people are seldom fond

their cousins — the next generation of English-
men will probably recognize the imperial future
towards which America is tending; and when the
poor old country is dead of age or geological
change, Americans will brag proudly enough of
their descent from her.

There are only two other matters of any im-
portance in these Lectures to which we would
refer. One is the opinion Mr. Everett expresses
about Oxford. It is natural enough that a repub-
lican should feel slight sympathy with the orthodox
and loyal city, and he had not the opportunities of
correcting his theoretical opinions by personal
observation that he enjoyed at Cambridge. The
other is the difficulty he finds to account for the
wide-spread sympathy felt in England for the
Southern States; but as none of us know the
reason of it ourselves, this is not so wonderful.
Some suppose that it originated in the fact of
our getting our cotton from the South, but we
are not so wrapped up in our shirts as all that ;
others think that we merely patted the weaker
combatant on the back ; others have received hos-
pitality and enjoyed good shooting amongst the

xvi Preface to the English Edition.

planters; some refer to a superstition that the
rowdies of South Carolina were more " gentle-
manly " than the quiet and learned lights of Bos-
ton ; a good many were disgusted by the rant of
the Abolitionists and the blood and dirt which
defiled the Northern (we never saw any files of
the Southern) papers generally. But none of
these guesses solve the riddle satisfactorily ; and
in fact it is like one of those enigmas for the un-
ravelling of which the pocket-books offer a prize
of £10 — it has no answer.

AUTHOR'S PREFACE.

HE following twelve lectures were
delivered in the hall of the Lowell
Institute in Boston, in the months of
January and February, 1864. In
preparing them for the press, it could not escape
my notice that much of the matter they contained
was of an essentially rhetorical character, better
suited for a lecture than an essay. It was no less
evident, however, that any attempt to change their
tone to something more didactic would be to re-
write them entirely ; and as they form a connected
whole, the result would probably be that the facts
and theories brought forward would be made less
interesting, without any gain in perspicuity or
accuracy. They have therefore been submitted
to the public exactly as- delivered.

For the emphasis with which certain views are
b

xviii Author's Preface.

advanced, I trust no apology is needed. A resi-
dence of seven years and more in two Universities
can hardly fail to generate strong opinions on such
topics as the value of College studies ; and between
three and four years passed in a foreign country is
apt to leave the mind in a very different disposi-
tion towards its inhabitants from that contracted
by occasional and short encounters with them.
The pages in which a sentiment of the most cor-
dial good-will towards England is advanced were
written and spoken at a time when our relations
with her were most apathetic, if not antagonistic ;
I can see no reason to change them now, when
recent events, glorious or sad, have brought the
countries so much nearer. No class of men ap-
pears to me less truly patriotic than those whose
only idea of upholding our own country is to run
down others; there are such everywhere, and
whether Americans or English, they will find little
satisfaction in these pages.

It may be proper to say that all statistics with
reference to the present condition of Cambridge
are taken from the Cambridge Calendar for 1863;
the architectural and antiquarian notes from Le
Keux's " Memorials of Cambridge ;" the reminis-
cences of the early Puritans from Young's " Chro-
nicles of Massachusetts."

CONTENTS.

INTRODUCTION

PAGE

xxiii

LECTURE I.

GENERAL VIEW OF CAMBRIDGE UNIVERSITY.
Introduction. — Old and New Cambridge. — American Ig-
norance of English Universities. — Cambridge and
Vicinity described. — Connection and Distinction of
University and Colleges. — Analogy of the Union and
the States 1

LECTUEE II.

HISTORY AND OBJECTS OF CAMBRIDGE SCHOLARSHIP.
Mediaeval Scholarship confined to the Church. — Its Cha-
racter.— Kevival of Greek Literature. — Erasmus. —
Bentley. — The Newtonian Mathematics. — General
Character of Cambridge Scholarship. — Advantages in
a University Course of Mathematical Study, — and of
Classical. 25

LECTURE in.

METHODS OF INSTRUCTION AND STUDY.
Competitive Examinations.— The final one described. —
University and College Lectures. — College and Private
Tutors. — Vindication of the Competitive System, and
of the Pursuit of College Studies generally. — " The
Wanderers." . .

49

xx Contents.

LECTURE IV.
INCENTIVES TO STUDY AND NON-STUDENTS.

PAGE

College Examinations. — Prizes of Various Kinds. — Com-
memoration. — Scholarships and Fellowships. — The
" Poll " Degree. — Professors' Lectures. — Shifts to
avoid Study. — Generosity between Students and Non-
Students. — General Discussion of the Cambridge Sys-
tem. . • 73

LECTURE V.
LIFE OF AN UNDERGRADUATE. — REGULAR.

Trinity College selected as the Type. — Dinner in Hall. —
College Kitchen and Courtyard. — Union Society. —
Vespers on a Saint's Day. — A Student's Evening. —
A Breakfast Party. — Treatment of Younger by Older
Classes.— Private Tutor.— A Walk. 98

LECTURE VI.

LIFE OF AN UNDERGRADUATE. — EXCEPTIONAL.

Length of the College Course. — Vacation. — Taking the
Degree. — Discipline. — Sundays. — Clubs and Associa-
tions.— Cricket and Rowing. — Description of a Boat-
race. — Trinity Boat Song. 122

LECTURE VTI.

SURTET OF THE DIFFERENT COLLEGES.

St. John's. — Magdalene. — Sidney Sussex. — Jesus. —
Christ's. — Emmanuel. — Downing. — St.Peter's. — Pem-
broke.—Queens'. — St. Catherine's.— Corpus Christi.
—King's.— Clare.— Trinity Hall.— Caius. . . .147

Contents. xxi

LECTUKE VIH.
GREAT MEN OF CAMBRIDGE BEFORE 1C88.

PAGE

Erasmus and Early Scholars. — Reformers. — Elizabethan
Statesmen and Poets.— Sir Edward Coke. — Translators
of the Bible. — Bacon. — New England Puritans. — Straf-
ford.— Cromwell. — Milton. 170

LECTURE IX.
GREAT MEN OF CAMBRIDGE SINCE 1688.

Mathematicians. — Scholars. — Divines. — Lawyers. —
Statesmen. — Authors. — Newton, Bentley, Barrow,
Lyndhurst, Pitt, Macaulay, and others. — Song for
Cambridge 193

LECTURE X.
DRAWBACKS OF THE CAMBRIDGE LIFE.

Favourable Opinion heretofore expressed. — Abuses and
Extortions by Servants. — Expense of Living. — Posi-
tion of the Aristocracy. — Hardships of Average Men
and Advantages of Specialists. — Strong Nationality of
the University. 217

LECTURE XL
RELATIONS OF CAMBRIDGE TO THE ENGLISH CHURCH.

Ecclesiastical Character of the Colleges. — Attendance on
Chapel and other Religious Duties. — Act of 1662. —
Theological Examination and other Requisites for Or-
dination.— Parties in the Church. — Oxford the Seat of
Extremists, Cambridge of Broad-Church Divines. . 239

xxii Contents.

LECTUEE XII.
RELATIONS OF CAMBRIDGE, ENGLAND, AND AMERICA.

PAQE

The Universities and the Professions.— Middle-Class Exa-
minations. — The Universities Aristocratic. — Cam-
bridge and Oxford contrasted. — Cambridge the Liberal
University. — English Opinions of America. — Mutual
Needs of the two Countries. — Concluding Stanzas. . 262

APPENDIX.

I. OLDER AND YOUNGER STUDENTS . . . 285

II. DIFFERENT COLLEGES 289

III. EXPENSES 290

INTRODUCTION.

order that the reader may thoroughly
appreciate the position in which these
lectures were written, I must here
trouble him, once for all, with certain
personal records, in order to avoid constant egotis-
tical reminiscences in the body of the work.

Having graduated at Harvard in July, 1859, I
sailed for England on September 21st of that year.
Arriving on October 2nd, I was admitted a pen-
sioner of Trinity College, Cambridge, on October
10th, Rev. William Whewell, D.D., being Master
of the College, and Rev. J. B. Lightfoot the Col-
lege tutor, under whose care I was placed. I
remained here for three entire academic years of
three terms each, including also portions of the

xxiv Introduction.

Christmas and Easter vacations of each year, and
the months of July and August in the long vaca-
tions of 1860 and 1862. In June, 1861, being the
beginning of the long vacation, I returned to
America, leaving it again in October of the same
year. Beginning the fourth academic year in
October, 1862, I took the degree of B.A. on the
31st of January, 1863, remaining at Cambridge
as a Bachelor of Arts till June of that year, ex-
cepting seven weeks spent on the Continent in
March and April, and returned to America in the
summer of 1863.

During this interval I passed the following
University examinations : three for the University
scholarships in February, 1860, 1861, and 1862;
Little-go or previous examination in April, 1861 ;
Mathematical Tripos in January, 1863, in virtue
of which I received the degree ; and Classical Tri-
pos in the ensuing February ; also competing for
certain University prizes. My College examina-
tions were : For admission, October, 1859 ; May
examinations, 1860, 1861, 1862 ; Christmas exa-
mination, 1860 ; for Foundation Scholarships,
Easter 1861 and 1862, after the second of which

Introduction. xxv

I was chosen to one of the Scholarships. I also
competed for certain College prizes with a partial
amount of success.

During this period the Prince Consort, Chan-
cellor of the University, died, and the Duke of
Devonshire was elected to the vacant place. The
successive Vice-Chancellors were Rev. W. H.
Bateson, Master of St. John's ; Hon. and Rev.
L. Neville, Master of Magdalene; Rev. George
Phillips, President of Queens', and Rev. Edward
Atkinson, Master of Clare. From the hands of this
last I received my degree. The Prince of Wales
connected himself with the University in the spring
of 1861, and left on his father's decease ; and the
British Scientific Association met at Cambridge
in 1862.

It will be observed that this period embraces in
the history of England the outbreak and termina-
tion of the Chinese War ; the gradual cessation of
Reform agitation ;* the death of Lord Macaulay ;
the publication of Essays and Reviews, and of Dr.

* Any stranger living amongst us for four whole years would
have an opportunity of seeing the British lion mumble and drop
that bone. — ED.

xxvi Introduction.

Colenso's Theological Works ; the distress in the
manufacturing districts ; the death of the mother
and husband of the reigning sovereign ; the antici-
pation of French invasion; the inauguration of
the Rifle Volunteer movement ; the Trent aftair,
and other complications of England in American
matters ; the death of Lord Herbert and Sir G.
Cornewall Lewis; the gradual uneasy breaking
up and reuniting of parties ; the marriage of the
Prince of Wales and others of the royal family.
The death of Count Cavour, the consolidation of
Italy, and the Polish outbreak, are the chief topics
of interest in Europe.

American history during the same time compre-
hends the visit of the Prince of Wales to this
country ; the election of 1860 ; and the whole his-
tory of the secession, rebellion, and war, down to
Lee's advance into Pennsylvania, which was the
news received at the quarantine ground in New
York by the steamer in which I finally returned.
During the first battles of the war, — Rich Moun-
tain, Bull's Run, &c, — I was in this country.

These great public events make less stir in an
English than in an American college. The almost

Introduction. xxvii

monastic isolation is so great, that it seemed a
greater event to me to change my rooms from let-
ter D, New Court, where I was for two years and
a half, to letter I, Old Court, where I ended my
course, than for the command of the army to pass
from McClellan to Burnside. The effect of con-
temporary events is therefore but slightly touched
in these lectures, which are meant to exhibit
Cambridge as it is.

Soon after I entered, I was entreated by several
friends in America to collect all the materials I
could for a book on Cambridge and England.
Had I made a business of this, these lectures would
be fuller of educational and architectural lore; but
they would have entirely lost the spirit of the
place, and after all would have been inferior to
Le Keux's " Memorials," and Cooper's " Athena?
Cantabrigiensis." I conceived that the best mate-
rials I could collect were those picked up in the
daily pathway of an undergraduate, and never
went out of that path to gather precious gems or
hew out shapely blocks.

As I finish these lines, the last written of this
book, a feeling of irresistible sadness comes over

xxviii Introduction.

me, which no one will reprehend. I went to
Cambridge with the counsel, the help, the blessing
of one to whom, under heaven, I owe all that
makes my life worth living. I passed nearly four
years of exile in the light of home thoughts where
he was the central sun. I delivered these lectures
on my return with his constant encouragement
and favour : and now that I make my first start
on the path he chose for his own, I can only sigh
for the presence which would have excused all
errors, doubled all efforts, and supplied all needs,
and which is taken from me, from his country,
for ever.

" Manibus date lilia plenis ;
Purpureos spargam flores, aniniamque parentis
His saltern accumulem donis, et f'ungar inani
Munere."

CAMBRIDGE, MASS., June 29, 1865.

I.

GENERAL VIEW OF CAMBRIDGE
UNIVERSITY.

Introduction. — Old and New Cambridge. — American Ignorance
of English Universities. — Cambridge and Vicinity described. —
Connection and Distinction of University and Colleges. —
Analogy of the Union and the States.

T is a task, arduous in no slight degree, for
a wholly untried lecturer, a young man,
scarce assured that he is free from the
discipline of school and college, to appeal-
before such an audience as this, and in
such a place. If America is the country, par excellence,
of popular lecturing, the Lowell Institute must be the
head of all the institutions that offer this form of instruc-
tion to the people ; and any one, however experienced or
well-informed, may well feel a tremor, on first attempting
so honourable a work, and one where so much is expected,
as a course of Lowell Lectures. I know, my honoured
fellow-citizens, that I may expect at your hands sympathy
and indulgence for all the imperfections of youth. You
are not to listen to-night, as all of us used to do with so
much pleasure, to the voice of the most learned and
accomplished classical scholar of Massachusetts ; but you
will be satisfied when I tell you that my model of a

2 On the Cam.

lecturer is he whose instructions were my delight at home,
whose encouragement attended me ahroad, and whose loss
has given the harshest shock to my happiness at return-
ing} — the erudite, the brilliant, the beloved Felton.

If I fail — as who should hope to succeed ? — in repro-
ducing to you the lecturers of other years, you will at
least give me credit for an ardent wish to please you, for
a young man's enthusiasm in my subject, and for Ameri-
can loyalty. And I fear that this last quality, which we
all need so much now, I shall need doubly to-night, — for
my subject will involve what, in the opinion of many good
Americans, is a fatal objection to any writer or speaker,
the praises of England and of some English institutions.
Having passed nearly four years in England ; returning
with a sadly fragmentary knowledge of the great events
that have taken place at home, — though I have tried to
make the most of them abroad, — my heart is full, and so
must my course be, of the place where I went to seek
education. I must therefore impose upon you a frequent,
though I hope not undiscriminating, eulogy of the Old
Country. Nor am I sorry to have this opportunity so to
do. I am not proposing to defend her conduct in the first
years of the war.* I believe it to be indefensible, though

» It is a sad thing that even .1 man so clear-sighted and so
partial to England as our lecturer should misunderstand the action
of our government during the civil war in America. If ever a
ruling power struggled hard to he perfectly just and impartial in a
matter of peculiar intricacy and difficulty, ours did; and when the
natural excitement which still agitates the United States has
calmed down, Americans, we think, will confess as much. As for
the words, and, indeed, in some few instances the actions, of indi-
vidual Englishmen, that is different. Many of us endeavoured at
the onset to come to the rights of the quarrel, and could make
neither head nor tail of it, so we watched the fight much as we
might a pugilistic encounter in the street; and some of us took
one side, some the other — Southern sympathy meaning, in the
majority of instances, nothing more than the admiration wo
instinctively feel for a plucky little boxer who is overmatched.
What is there "selfish" in such a sentiment ?— ED.

On the Cam. 3

not perhaps inexcusable. Even the excuses which might
be, which are given by intelligent Englishmen, I will not
go through here. But is it fair, is it just, is it overcoming
evil with good, to indulge in indiscriminate and fanatical
abuse of a great nation, because her conduct to us has
been ill-judged and selfish ? We blame the editorials of
the " Times ;" have not our own newspapers been rapidly
bringing their criticisms on foreign affairs to the standard
of the " Times ? " Are we, after the reception we gave
the Prince of Wales in 1860, really and truly prepared
to make Louis Napoleon our model of a sovereign instead
of tlue good Queen Victoria ? Or has the conduct of
England in the present war altered a single item in that
domestic life, wherein so many points used to excite our
admiration and love ? It is my hope, ladies and gentle-
men, that I may succeed in interesting you not only in the
great English University, but in the country by which
that University is supported, and to which it gives so
much of her strength ; and that as I have fought in
England for the country of my birth, I may not have hard
work to fight here for the country that extended to me
her hospitality.

It is remarked of the Americans, that beginning their
national, and so to speak, their physical existence so
recently, they are of all peoples the most eager to search
out the previous history of all that belongs to them ; to
know all about everything American as it was before it
became American. The chief support of genealogists in
England is derived from Yankees, who, with more than
their native inquisitiveness, will know from what precise

* Is this " rote sarcastical," as Artemus Ward says ? We do
not defend theline taken by the "Times" on the American question,
for it seems to us that, while it blamed the North for fighting to
uphold the Union, it would have been the first to have taunted it
for its pusillanimity had it let the Southern States go without a
struggle. But the idea of the American papers turning to its
columns for a lesson in international vituperation, is grand. — ED.

4 On the Cam.

lovely pasture in Northamptonshire came the particular
John Brown, in honour of whom their town is called
Fairfield. To facilitate these researches, an enterprising
and ubiquitous citizen has re-edited the " Massachusetts
Colonial Kecords," that we may, at all events, get our
ancestors safe as far back as the first settlement. I
extract therefrom, without attempting to do justice^ to
the admirable and ingenious orthography, the following
entries : —

" 1637. Nov. 15. The College shall be at Newtown.
" 1638. May 2. Newtown shall be called Cambridge."
And why Cambridge? Why should one of the most
insignificant of English boroughs be picked out to give its
name to the settlement, where such men as Winthrop and
Leverett seriously thought of establishing the seat of
government of " the Massachusetts? "—the town whence
the pioneers of Springfield departed on their fourteen days'
journey to the Connecticut? — the town where the first
printing-press in the United States was established? Was
not Norwich, the second city in England, or York, the
capital of the North, where Saltonstall had so often
attended the assizes, or Huntingdon, the home of their
beloved Cromwell, or Wendover, of the still more hon-
oured Hampden, worthier of commemoration ? Why not
London itself, a name which John Smith had vainly
sought to fix on the old Bay of Dorchester ? It is the
first" of the records I have read that explains the second.
The college was to be at Newtown. The ancient Uni-
versity, where most of our pilgrim ancestors had tasted of
the sweets of learning which they desired to perpetuate,
was at Cambridge in England. It was from Cambridge
that John Harvard came to cast in his lot among us. In
filial and grateful remembrance of their own Alma Mater,
did our ancestors give the name of Cambridge to the
settlement of Newtown, the seat of their infant college.

I am sure, my honoured friends, I do not misinterpret
your feelings if I say that on no subject could the Ameri-

On the Cam. 5

can passion for historical research be more eagerly and
delightedly exercised than the parentage of Harvard Col-
lege. It is from no common interest that for seven gene-
rations the wealth of Massachusetts has been lavished on
her, that the competition of her halls has stimulated the
noblest youth of our city and our country. No common
share of our heart's blood must be in that institution that
has sent out over four hundred children to fight in their
country's warfare, and the best of them to fall in siege and
battle and swamp and hospital. When Boston forgets
Harvard, may her right hand forget its cunning. When
she remembers not her ancient university, may her tongue
cleave to the roof of her mouth.

And since we delight in all that can illustrate her his-
tory,— since it is our boast that we love to cut deeper,
year after year, the inscriptions on the graves of our an-
cestors, and trace with eagerness in English soil the roots
and stock which have put forth the branches of American
learning and civilization, — since we Bostonians boast to
be liberal and cultivated men and women, enjoying the
study of any place where good and wise teachers of youth
have been wont to gather, — I invite you to cross the water
with me to-night, and to pass six weeks at Cambridge in
England. We shall study its history, its character, its
prospects, — its studies and its recreations, its fathers and
its sons, its precepts and its warnings. Like children
going back to their grandfather's mansion, we shall run
through the rooms where our fathers were born and bred ;
we shall stroll along the green turf and by the bright
streams where they grew up ; and we shall stumble upon
many queer nooks, winding passages, and dark closets,
some of them not a little musty, where they made their
resort for pleasure or punishment. And I hope that when
we meet some of our cousins there, you will take them
affectionately by the hand, remembering the relationship ;
for they have for four years been giving a hearty welcome
to their American kinsman ; taken him to school with them,

6 On the Cam.

and shared with him their bed. and board ; though I admit
their hospitality did not prevent their charging him a good
price. And if you do not come back at the beginning of
spring with love to Old Cambridge in your hearts, it will
not be her fault, but mine.

I am surprised that on a subject so interesting and
important as the English Universities, scarcely anything
has been written from which an American can derive
correct ideas of them. Le Keux's magnificent volumes
on the " Architectural History and Memorials of Cam-
bridge," of which a new and enlarged edition has lately
appeared, seldom find their way into American libraries.
The learned works of Huber and Hayward are rather
scientific discussions than popular treatises. The meagre
notices of novelists and magazine-writers mislead on
exactly the points where they seek to instruct. I should
say, from what observations I have been able to make,
that the general opinion of Americans is as follows.
There is in England a college or university, the terms
being used interchangeably, situated at Oxford, to which
the name of Cambridge is occasionally applied ; of which
" The Adventures of Mr. Verdant Green " is the guide-
book, published by official authority ; that the young men
wear a peculiar dress, of which the main part is generally
known as the Oxford hat ; that studies are pursued,
standing in the same relation to those of our colleges that
they do to those of our public schools ; that the under-
graduates are, on an average, six or eight years older than
our own ; that boating is practised, the least bit inferior to
ours ; that the Articles of the Church of England are
frequently signed by all the members of this college, —
Oxford College, sometimes called Cambridge ; and that it
is infested by a swarm of things called Lords, who make
the necks of the other students their habitual promenade.
I have stated all this not as a caricature, but as what I
honestly believe to be a fair exposition of the opinion held
by a majority of Americans, as far as they have any

On the Cam. 1

opinion at all, of the great fountains of English learning.
Xow, it is, in fact, hardly more correct than the statement
of a writer in "All the Year Round," that the horse-railroad
passed by the house of the poet Longfellow to the beautiful
rural cemetery on the banks of the Schuylkill. Cam-
bridge is not Oxford, and Oxford is not Cambridge. The
dress of the students at the two places is as different as
the uniforms of army and navy ; their head-dress is never
known as an Oxford hat, and the wearers are in. general
about a year and a-half older than our students. What
is the value of their studies and their exercises, as com-
pared with ours, I shall have occasion to state shortly ;
but any person can enter, and take his bachelor's, and at
Cambridge his master's degree, without any oath or sub-
scription whatsoever, — whether connected with the Church
or State of England. " Verdant Green " was written by
a graduate of neither university, — it is a very shallow,
imperfect picture of a certain style of Oxford life ; and a
lord, with the undergraduates, is a man. And all these
errors are the more unjustifiable, because there is one
book, giving, as far as Cambridge goes, a capital account
of the English university system, at once full, accurate,
and lively beyond any work I know. I allude to Mr. C.
A. Bristed's excellent work, " Five Years in an English
University." I shall doubtless have frequent occasion to
recur to the obligations I am under to this book. Its
plates were most unfortunately destroyed in the Harpers'
fire. Had it not been out of print, my occupation here
would be gone.

Perhaps the reason why we have had no good account,
except Bristed's, of an English university in comparison
with the flood of information about the German system,
though even that is very imperfectly understood, is, that
so few Americans have ever pursued their studies at one.
This has arisen from several causes. The expense of living
in England, — various difficulties, great, but not insuperable,
in the way of a foreigner's residence at Oxford or Cam-

8 On the Cam.

bridge, — the desire to reside in some Continental town, to
learn the language, — and a general persuasion that English
scholars are inferior to German, and English people inferior
to brutes, — has deterred all but a very few Americans from
seeking the Alma Mater of their fathers, the fountain
from which their own streams of learning had flowed. I
cannot think there is any American who has encountered
the ordeal, but has been thankful he did so. And now
that all disabilities to the residence of foreigners at Ox-
ford or Cambridge are removed, I trusi an American
student will never again be a subject for Punch's celebrated
caricature, representing a tall and lanky youth dressed in
stars and stripes, accosted by a short and stout proctor
thus : —

" Sir — you are smoking a cigar in the High Street of
Oxford!!"

" Guess I could have told you that, old boss."

Since, then, I have the honour to be one of few who
have seen the old Lady in her best parlour, her dining-room,
her bed-chambers, and her school-room, let me lay the
foundations of her house correctly. I repeat — Cambridge
is not Oxford, and Oxford is not Cambridge. To prevent
all further danger of confusion, I would call your attention
to the fact, that these two university towns are almost
exactly as far apart as our two university towns of Provi-
dence and Hartford, and that the generally travelled route
from Cambridge to London, and from London by Eeading
to Oxford, is not unlike a journey from Providence to ^ew
London or Stonington, and thence by New Haven to
Hartford. I hope in the course of these lectures to find
space for a few words concerning Oxford. Suffice it at
present to say that the two great universities of England
are generous rivals in wealth and learning, equally matched,
full of mutual respect, each convinced of its own superiority,
and each confident that the other is vastly superior to any
third place of learning in the world.

But if Cambridge claims to be the equal of Oxford, it

On the Cam. 9

must be exclusively from its academic pretensions. The
two towns are far from being a match. Oxford is one of
the most picturesque of England's old cathedral cities, and
one of the most active of its modern county capitals, situated
too on the banks of its noblest river, in the bosom of a fine
range of hills, and in the immediate vicinity of some of the
most beautiful and famous localities in Britain. Sport
and love, politics and warfare, Little John and Fair
Rosamond, Charles the First and Maryborough, have left
their memorials at its very threshold. Cambridge, on the
contrary, is of all provincial English boroughs the most in-
significant, the dullest, and the ugliest.* It is at once the
last town on the chalk, and the first on the fen, — a com-
bination admirable for raising wheat, but wholly at variance
with beauty of all kinds. An endless expanse of marsh,
cut up by long-drawn reaches of sluggish brooks, bordered
with pollard willows and unhappy poplars, forms the pros-
pect of the lowlands. On the south, a mixture of chalk
and flint rises into a slope of a few hundred feet high,
dignified by the title of the Gogmagog Hills, without a
tree or a tower, or indeed anything to break the outline
but some windmills and a lunatic asylum. Near the foot
of this molework, and through the melancholy of these
marshes, creeps what seems a forgotten canal, nowhere
over seventy feet wide, with a few locks and half a hundred
black barges ; and this you are informed is the river Cam,

* This surely is an exaggeration, leading one to suspect that Mr.
Everett's experience of " provincial English boroughs" has heen
both limited and happily selected. Cambridge, as well as Oxford,
is the capital of a county, and though of course it cannot enter into
comparison with that beautiful city, we do not think that many
strangers walking down Trumpington Street from Scroope Terrace
to Great St. Mary's, would endorse the opinion that it was an in-
significant, dull, or ugly town. Or even if we are to leave all the
colleges and public buildings connected with the university out of
our consideration, the hospital, the market-place, the houses around
Parker's Piece, and certain Terraces, are quite up to the average of
ordinary English county capitals. — ED.

10 On the Cam.

whence Cambridge. Here and there on its banks are
clustered the cottages of little hamlets, ugly towards the fen
side, prettier towards the chalk, and now and then cropping
out into groves and gardens, millpools, weirs affording pre-
sage of trout, and all of a cosy, household kind of beauty,
quite enrapturing in such a waste of dulness. The site of
one mill, otherwise as commonplace as its fellows, has
been immortalized, for, says Chaucer, —

" At Trompington, not far from Cantabrigge
Ther goth a brook, and over it a brigge,
Upon the whiche brook ther stout a melle ;
(Xow this is very sothe that you I tell.)"

Though if very sothe were told, the mill is just over the
border in Grantchester, the next parish to Trumpington.
The chalk country of Cambridge is in no way remarkable.
It is the last out-cropping spur of the great calcareous
range that fills up the south-eastern corner of England,
abounding in those curious fossils called Coprolites, which
are very extensively worked as a fertilizer by the Cam-
bridge peasants.

But the fen or Isle of Ely, on whose extreme southern
limit stands Cambridge, is one of the most singular fea-
tures of Great Britain. It is the great estuary of the
Ouse and the Nen rivers, whose quaint Saxon names are
connected with the history of some of our most honoured
heroes, for it was by the banks of the Ouse that the gent-
lest of poets, William Cowper, took his daily walk, and
the Nen in its course through Northampton parts at equal
distances of a few miles the towns of Ecton and Sulgrave,
the ancestral seats of the families of Franklin and Wash-
ington. The Isle of Ely is the vast accumulation of mud
and peat brought down by these rivers, and deposited, like
the delta of the Nile, just at the point where the German
Ocean flings its fiercest tides on the east coast of England.
It is in fact perfectly described as a bit of Holland in the
centre of England, and the Saxon name of Holland, or

On the Cam. 1 1

hollow land, is still retained by a similar tract in Lincoln-
shire. The primitive condition of the Isle of Ely is admi-
rably described by Lord Macaulay in the eleventh chapter
of his immortal history. One feature he there commemo-
rates must not be omitted here. On the largest of the
knolls of solid earth, originally islands, which here and
there stud the marsh, a few thousand souls are gathered
around the glorious cathedral of Ely, still one of the most
magnificent Gothic shrines in England, though a great
part of the west end appears to have been destroyed. Its
majestic towers are a landmark for miles, in spite of the
atmosphere of the fens, noted for its heaviness and mois-
ture even in England. In the course of the last two hun-
dred years, the enterprise of various great proprietors,
particularly the noble house of Russell, Dukes of Bedford,
has converted the fen of Ely into a field of inexhaustible
agricultural wealth. The sea is kept out by dikes, which,
however, are not always adequate. In the year 1862, one
of the sluiceways burst, and flooded the lower part of the
fen, so that people came from all the neighbouring coun-
ties to watch the devastations of the tide as a spectacle.
Sixteen miles south of Ely the fen terminates, almost at
the foot of another landmark, less lofty than the cathe-
drals, but contesting with all of them, in spite of Ruskin's
glittering paradoxes, the palm for perfection of proportion,
simplicity of design, and elegance of detail, — the chapel of
King's College, (of which the library of Harvard is not,
as some persons suppose, an exact copy, but quite the
reverse,) whose pinnacles, 146 feet high, mark, for all the
fen, the site of Cambridge.

I have said that Cambridge is an insignificant and ugly
town. Its population is not far from that of our own
Cambridge, between twenty and twenty-five thousand, and
the space it covers is much less. Being the capital of an
entirely agricultural country, it wants the bustle of a min-
ing district and the enterprise and progress of a manufac-
turing one. It seems to have stagnated for three hundred

12 On the Cam!

years, seeing new articles in the shops, and new faces in
the streets, and occasionally some new houses, only he-
cause the population was larger. Its streets are too
crooked to be convenient or imposing, and not crooked
enough to be picturesque. The buildings are mostly of
bricks baked of the local clay, which is of a dirty white,
relieved by occasional touches of dingy red, and all, to use
Dr. Holmes's admirable classification, of no particular
order of architecture but their own. Here and there a
building in the white freestone of the neighbourhood
would be really ornamental, were it not for the uniform
pall of coal-smoke that blackens everything in an English
market-town, and is in Cambridge rendered doubly swarthy
by the condensations of the marsh fog. Its churches, on
which English towns mainly depend to relieve their archi-
tectural sameness, are by no means unsightly, but on very
commonplace models, with one exception, the beautiful
little round church of the Holy Sepulchre, often known as
St. Sepulchre's. It is one of four in England which the
Knights Templar built in a circular form, to commemorate
the shape of the Sepulchre in Jerusalem. "When Brian
de Bois-Guilbert travelled northward, he undoubtedly first
paid his vows at the round Temple Church in London ; on
the first stage from London, he would arrive at the round
church in Essex ; the second would take him to this at
Cambridge ; the fourth would bring him to one in Nor-
thamptonshire, and for the rest of his journey to Kother-
wood he would have to content himself with a sanctuary
not on the Templar model.

Two monuments in Cambridge deserve further notice.
One is a mound of earth, about a hundred feet high,
known as the Castle Hill, and affording a capital view of
the town, and yet entirely artificial. It was, however,
sufficiently incorporated with the soil for Cromwell to put
some cannon on, as he did to almost every hill, natural or
artificial, in England. The other was formerly an orna-
mental stone conduit in the market-place, though now

•On the Cam. 13

removed to the court end of the town, and was the gift of
old Hobson, formerly carrier from London to Cambridge,
and the cause of the celebrated saying of Hobson's choice.
He has been commemorated by Milton in two capital jeux
d 'esprit, which I commend to your reperusal.

Cambridge has always been known as a queer town. It
stands half-way between the Eastern counties, viz. Nor-
folk, Suffolk, and Essex, and the shires, or central part of
England. It partakes of the traits of both, although, in
my experience, the brisk, enterprising character of the
shires was wholly sunk in the stolid, painstaking, loamy
nature of the Eastern counties, the part of England, I
would remind you, whence Massachusetts was chiefly colo-
nized. I suppose with their Puritan element was exiled
their wit. Boston will like Cambridge none the less for
having a great many notions. Of these I will only men-
tion one, that Cambridge butter is sold by the yard. Fur-
ther, for the information of travellers, the Bull is the best
hotel, and in all parts of the town the sausages are unex-
ceptionable.

So much for the town of Cambridge. If my descrip-
tion is dull, that proves its accuracy. But this sombre
setting does but heighten the exceeding lustre of the jewel
it enchases, the brilliant, the honoured, the glorious Uni-
versity. And as I have occupied so long time in showing
that Cambridge is Cambridge, and not Oxford, let me dis-
pel another error in American opinion. The institution at
Cambridge is a university, and not a college. There is no
such body as Cambridge College, or Oxford College. The
great corporation, comprising at present (1863) 7,922 per-
sons, who in some sort or other retain active connection with
it, of which 1,581 are undergraduates, familiarly known as
Cambridge, affectionately as Alma Mater, is officially de-
signated as the Chancellor, Masters, and Scholars of the
University of Cambridge. It confers degrees, awards prizes,
holds examinations, and assigns rank in accordance with
their result ; elects members to Parliament ; by the mouths

14 On the Cam.

of its professors and other officers delivers public lectures
and sermons, and by the authority of its proctors and others
pronounces judicial decisions in a court peculiarly its own.
It gives no personal instruction, appoints no hours of study,
conducts no religious exercises of a devotional character ;*
and, herein differing from Oxford, enforces no special' dress.
In general, it exercises no immediate authority over the
students who share its privileges.f Furthermore, it is
distinctly not a rich body, — so much so that its professors'
salaries, not on special foundations, are very meagre, and
a material itemj in its income are the fines of about one
dollar and seventy-five cents — reckoned in gold — which
are levied for breaches of such discipline as it does enforce.
The wealth, the instruction, the personal authority, is all
in the hands of the colleges, — bodies distinct from the
university, though constantly in America confounded with
it. To them let us now turn.

The colleges at Cambridge are seventeen in number ;
at Oxford, I think, twenty-four. They are, for all pur-
poses of internal organization, as distinct as Harvard and
Yale, or as two public schools in Boston. They differ in
wealth, in prestige, and in the number of their mem-
bers, the largest at Cambridge having more than twice as
many as the next largest ; at Oxford they are more on an
equality. They differ also in the date of their foundation,
and the University, that is the separate body of men pro-
fessing a literary life, is older than any of them. A uni-
versity, in fact, is not, as the wise modern Greeks at
Athens have translated it, a universal knowledge-shop ; it
is the whole body of men professing one trade in one place.
What we call guilds or companies of masons, shoemakers,

* The University Sermons at Great St. Mary's are an exception.
— ED.

t The Proctors are University officers. — ED.

J Were this the case the funds in the chest would indeed bo
low! — ED.

On the Cam. 15

lawyers, were in mediaeval phrase called Universities. All
similar bodies, who monopolized the instruction of youth
in their particular trade had two grades, the first -being
apprentices or students, who worked seven years, and then
were advanced to the second grade of master- workmen.
The Universities par excellence were those where learned
men studied and taught the seven liberal arts or sciences,
viz. grammar, rhetoric, logic, music, arithmetic, geometry,
and astronomy. After an apprentice to the Muses had
studied four years, he was advanced to the grade of Bach-
elor of Arts, — a term of uncertain derivation. He could
then lecture on what he knew, but could ^iot leave his place
of education. After three years more he became a Master
of the liberal arts, and might profess them anywhere he
pleased. Still further, the degree of Bachelor in the arts
of Theology, Medicine, Law, and Music was specially
awarded, and after long standing a peculiar proficient
received the formal and eminently honourable title of
Doctor ; and his gown, black through all previous degrees,
became red or purple. These two learned guilds of work-
men and students in the liberal arts were established at
Cambridge and Oxford from a very early period. Oxford
says she was founded by King Alfred, — Cambridge says
she was founded by Augustine. Each university there-
upon adduces its own series of distinguished men, among
whom St. Paul and Dionysius the Areopagite are the
most noted, carrying the period of foundation, first for one,
and then for the other into more and more remote antiquity,
till, finally, there is actually standing in Cambridge, but
on ground belonging to one of the colleges at Oxford, an
ancient house known as the school of Pythagoras, — and
that settles the question. Be the date as it may, learned
men assembled to study at the two Universities long before
any colleges were founded for board, lodging, and private
instruction. Listen to the long line of illustrious founders
of colleges, kings and queens and prelates, as they roll
down the sonorous lines of England's most classic bard.

16 On the Cam.

" But hark ! the portals sound, and pacing forth

With solemn steps and slow,
High potentates, and dames of royal birth,

And mitred fathers in long order go :
Great Edward, with the lilies on his brow
From haughty Gallia torn,
And sad Chatillon, on her bridal morn
That wept her bleeding love, and princely Clare,

And Anjou's heroine, and the paler Eose,

The rival of her crown and of her woes,
And either Henry there,
The murdered saint, and the majestic lord,
That broke the bonds of Rome."

The earliest existing college at Cambridge is St. Peter's,
generally called Peterhouse, historically founded A. D.
1257, in the reign of Henry III. The Universities are
known merely by their situation ; as Oxford, Cambridge,
Durham, St. Andrews' ; but each college has a name,
according to the taste of its founder or first members.
These names may be divided into two classes, those
named after the founder, as Pembroke, Clare, Gonville,
and Caius, (this had two founders, the restorer being Dr.
Kaye, who Latinized his name into Caius, always pro-
nounced Keys), King's (from King Henry VI,), — Queens'
(from the queens both of Henry VI. and Edward IV.),
Sidney Sussex, and Downing; — and those named after
beatified persons and objects of worship,— St. Peter's, St.
John's, St. Catharine's, St. Mary Magdalene, Corpus
Christi, Emmanuel, Jesus, Christ's, Trinity, and Trinity
Hall. The apparent* impiety of these names, which in one
case of an ancient name now changed, was absolutely revolt-
ing, entirely passes oft" with a few days' use. St. Catharine's
soon becomes Cats, and St. Mary Magdalene is always
called Maudlin. You readily admit the superiority of
Trinity over Corpus ale ; go to see a friend who lives on
Christ's piece ; and hear with regret, that in the boat-races
Emmanuel has been bumped by Jesus; an epithet being
probably prefixed to the last name. These names of course
were given in monkish times, — Trinity by Henry VIII.,

On the Cam. 17

but all the colleges except one were founded before tbe reign
of James I.

"When our ancestors voted in 1636 to establish a college
in New England, there is every reason to believe that they
contemplated a seat of learning on the English plan. All
the earlier constitutions and laws speak to that effect. The
little ark of literature on the wild waves of our colonial
history, was constituted like an English college. John
Harvard, who "was a graduate of Cambridge University,
having generously given half his fortune, the college at
Xcwtown or Cambridge was called after him Harvard
College, just as Sidney Sussex and Pembroke Colleges had
been named after two noble ladies Sidney, Lady Sussex,
and the Countess of Pembroke, who had been their respec-
tive founders. Had subsequent benefactors, instead of
increasing Harvard's college, founded others of their own
in the same University, each would have had its own name,
and the University have embraced all. The State Con-
stitution speaks not of Harvard, but of the University at
Cambridge. But no other college having been set up at
Cambridge, and Harvard's foundation being enriched with
professors' chairs, and exercising University powers, the
affection for his memory has invented the monstrous and
incongruous name of Harvard University, an anomalous
designation, warranted by neither statute nor precedent,
English or American. In Germany there is some ex-
ample of such a designation.

The seventeen colleges, then, are distinct corporations.
Their foundations, resources, buildings, governing authori-
ties and students, are entirely separate from each other.
Nor has any one college the least control over any other.
The plan, however, is much the same in all. The presid-
ing authority is in most cases called the Master, or, speaking
more generally, the Head ; while the net proceeds of all
the college funds — for the vast wealth supposed to belong
to the University is really in the hands of the separate
colleges — are distributed among certain of the graduates,
c

18 On the Cam.

called Fellows, who with the Head constitute the corpora-
tion. These corporations give board and lodging on
various terms to such students as choose to enter the col-
lege and comply with its rules, in order to receive its
assistance in obtaining the honours of the University ; and
each college offers its own peculiar inducements to students.
When the Prince of Wales came to pass a year or more at
Cambridge, and entered his name on the books of Trinity
College, the rush there was so great that the authorities
were at last obliged to decline to take any more ; whereby
less noted colleges reaped a rich harvest from the unac-
cepted overflow.*

To enforce discipline each college chooses officers called
deans, and for the general purposes of instruction and
management, tutors, i. e. persons clothed with extensive
discretionary power, through whose hands all the real un-
dergraduate business passes, and who occupy a much more
exalted position than our tutors, being in fact the guardians
appointed for the young men during their absence from
home. They appoint assistant tutors, not necessarily mem-
bers of the colleges, to give additional instruction. There is
moreover within the college precincts a perfect army of
butlers, stewards, cooks, bedmakers, porters, and other
servants innumerable. Each college holds lectures and
examinations, awards prizes, and at stated intervals elects
certain scholars, from the students of ability and industry,
but not necessarily of limited means, — who thereupon
derive direct pecuniary advantages from the funds of the
college. Each college makes its own requirements of its
students, prescribes within certain limits the time of their

* It is said, though we do not vouch for the truth of the anec-
dote, that a certain college, which has long been deplorably short
of undergraduates, has lately received into its charitable bosom a
band of unruly youths dismissed by a more prosperous Foundation
as untameahle. Should this be a fact and prove a precedent, the
dean and tutors of the College of Refuge will have a nice time
of it, unless indeed they elect Mr. Rarey for their master.— ED.

On the Cam. 19

residence, fixes its own hours and its own peculiar variety
on the general type of academic dress.

I have said the colleges differ in prestige. This may
seeui singular, when they all have nearly, if not quite, an
equal share of the University privileges. It is not merely
dependent on their wealth and the proficiency of their gra-
duates. It is moreover constantly fluctuating. A college
that twenty years ago ranked as third in numbers and con-
sideration, is now eighth or ninth, notwithstanding some
men of very superior attainments have recently been con-
nected with it. Of late years Trinity and St. John's have
shot far ahead of all others, and Trinity far ahead of St.
John's, in the general opinion entertained by the public.

The whole body of the colleges, taken together, consti-
tutes the University. All those who after residing seven
years at some college, have taken the degree of Master of
Arts, or a higher one, and keep their name on the college
lists by a small payment, vote at the University elections
for members of Parliament and all other officers, and man,-
age its affairs ;* while all the undergraduates and bachelors
of arts residing at the colleges, together constitute the
persons in statu pvpilhtri of the University, have the right
to compete for its honours, and are amenable to its rules
of conduct. The colleges, at certain intervals, present
such students as comply with their conditions to University
authorities for matriculation, for certain examinations, and
for the reception of degrees ; and until one receives the
degree of Master of Arts, he must remain a member of
some college, not necessarily one and the same, to hold
any University privileges. After this stage, he may, under
certain conditions, break up all his college connections,
and yet remain in the University ; and so if the college
sees fit, he may, before taking a degree, or even before

* In order to retain the right of voting on all questions, it is
necessary that a Member of the Senate should reside at the Uni-
versity during a certain portion of the year. — ED.

20 On the Cam,

matriculation, remain at his college, enjoying many of its
advantages, and yet having nothing to do with the Uni-
versity. Still further : the prominent men at each college
are, as might be supposed, likely to he the prominent men
in the whole University; and the Vice-Chancellor, or
acting head of the University, is chosen in rotation from
the heads of the colleges. Once more : there are a great
many learned men living at Cambridge, to give instruction
to such pupils as seek it, in all departments, after severing
entirely all connection with both college and University,*
but preferring to remain in a place where their early asso-
ciations all gather, where their friends still reside, where
their publications will find intelligent readers and critics,
and where their services as teachers will be in the greatest
demand, and command the highest premium.

I almost despair of making plain this complicated
system, so different both from the pure University system
of Germany, and from the pure College system of America,
Tji England the individual relations of a young man are
all with his college, except perhaps his private instructor ;
there are his rooms, his commons hall, his chapel, his
daily lectures ; there are his friends, his societies, — with
certain exceptions, — his boat and cricket clubs. There
are his daily and weekly rewards and punishments ; there
his successes and failures, and his prospects for either
known and discussed ; there he looks for a fellowship or
scholarship, to stamp with solid advantage the comparatively
barren honour of a University triumph. Thither he comes
as a Freshman, thither he returns as a graybeard.
are the tutors and deans, the objects of his daily fear and
aversion, and there the junior and unofficial authorities, the
objects of his respect and confidence. In the University
societies, examinations, prizes, the competition is to a con-

* Not a "great many;" it is quite an exceptional thing for a
resident private tutor not to have his name on the boards of hia
college. — ED.

On the Cam. 21

siderable extent between colleges rather than individuals,
and the hospitalities between members of different colleges
are very apt to have a formal and courtly air, at variance
with the easy jollity common amongst fellow collegians.
The college rivalries and connections are to an English
University what the class system is to us, or the fraternities
to Germany : sixteen hundred undergraduates, divided
between seventeen colleges, large and small, make about
the same divisions as four hundred men among four classes.
At Cambridge, the college is nearly everything, the Uni-
versity very little, except as an " Arena for the exhibition
of champions," or as fixing a common standard of scholar-
ship, and diffusing a common tone of sentiment.

But shift the scene to England and the world, and all is
changed. It is Cambridge and Oxford, the two great
seats of learning, that make their voices heard throughout
the length and breadth of Britain and the world. No one
cares in Parliament, in society, on the continent, or in the
universal brotherhood of literature, if a man comes from
Trinity or Corpus, from Balliol or Christ Church, except
in a few cases of personal friendship. It is enough that
he belongs to the great Universities ; one the home of
Bacon and Newton and Pitt and Macaulay, the other of
Raleigh and Locke and Chatham and Peel. One of these
very great men tells us of the seventeenth century, and the
same is true to this day : " To be a chancellor of a Uni-
versity was a distinction eagerly sought by the magnates
of the realm. To represent a University in Parliament
was a favourite object of the ambition of statesmen. Nobles
and even princes were proud to receive from a University
the privilege of wearing the Doctoral scarlet." The last
chancellor of Cambridge was the husband of the sovereign.
The last lord steward, the graduate representing her
interests in the House of Lords, was the late learned and
venerable Lord Lyndhurst. One of her recent repre-
sentatives in Parliament was the astute and able Palmer-
ston, and one of her present members is the high-minded

22 On the Cam.

and patriotic Walpole, the Secretary for the Home De-
partment, whenever the Conservatives rise to power. And
not only does the University influence rise thus high, but
it spreads wide, and strikes deep ; its graduates are dif-
fused throughout the length and breadth of the great
British Empire. The Universities are the bulwarks of the
Church, the mainstay of the government, the fountains of
learning. For these great objects, they draw on the
energy and resources of all the colleges alike, — and when-
ever, either to hold fast or to reform, to originate or to
illustrate, the great University spirit arises, the whole
eight thousand graduates and undergraduates rise together
to maintain, in life and in death, the honour and glory of
dear old Oxford or Cambridge.

I said I despaired of exhibiting to you in its full nature,
this connection and separation of College and University ;
and yet the whole world is full of analogies. The college
is like the town, the University like the nation ; the college
is like the nation, the University like the world. The col-
lege is like the home, the University like the community.
Our principles, our work, our duties may be with the
whole ; our affections, our associations, our recreations are
with the part ; and yet, at the right time, our most anxious
cares are with the part, and our loftiest affections with the
whole. Each part has its own province, and each its own
share in the work of the whole.

And forgive me, my honoured friends, if, to make the
analogy more impressiA'e, I have delayed so long the exact
parallel which must ere now have forced itself upon you.
I need not tell you, I ought not to tell you, ladies and
gentlemen, how several corporate bodies, each with its in-
dividual wealth, its individual jurisdiction, its own peculiar
laws, ruling its own citizens, controlling its own affairs,
maintaining its own honour, may yet be associated under
one government, where each part shall have its own
co-ordinate share, '•' for the common defence, the common
renown, and the common glory," in one indissoluble whole.

On the Cam. 23

It is not new to you, nor is it a strange freak of the
English Universities, a curious phase in European institu-
tions, this principle of the many in one. Our ancestors,
the brave soldiers, the wise statesmen, the pious divines,
who founded the New England colonies, were many of
them sons of Oxford, many more of Cambridge. They
had learnt to respect and to love in their Universities the
principle of independent action in domestic affairs, com-
bined with mutual defence and support for the good of the
whole. They could have learnt it nowhere else ; neither in
the dissensions of Germany, the rebellions of France, nor
the endless feuds of the British Isles. They founded the
league of the New England colonies for mutual support ;
and their descendants declared the independence of the
United States of A.merica.

And must we not believe, ladies and gentlemen, that
such a perfect analogy as this will in time have its effect
upon our English brethren ? It is by this beautiful system
of federative union that their two great seats of learning
have for six hundred years concentrated in themselves the
affection of tens of thousands of the most intelligent and
noble-hearted men in England, have stood the beacon-
lights of learning and reason through the ages of darkness,
and have blazed like jewels of truth in the glory of the
noon-day sun of modern intelligence. To this connection
every son of Cambridge and Oxford clings with the utmost
tenacity of the English nature. The name so dear to us
is well known to them in the two great clubs, open to all
members of Oxford and Cambridge, and known as the
" Union Debating Society," or, more commonly, the
" Union " alone. Fond, devoted as they are, when college
interests are at stake, they are ready at any great crisis,
to rise as one man to defend the whole University. Let
us draw therefrom this augury of peace and goodwill to
come ; that when the cloud of misrepresentation and deceit,
raised by emissaries whose true natures are abhorrent to
the souls of Englishmen, has blown away, and the pure

24

On the Cam.

azure of truth returns, their hearts and voices will unite in
paying to us the long deferred tribute of justice and
applause for that undying devotion to our cause which
they have hitherto regarded as misled fanaticism, as wild
thirst for empire, as senseless passion for military glory.
And let a still nobler and loftier union of England and
America in the cause of freedom be inaugurated when
they have learned to appreciate the impulse whereby the
inhabitants of different states, separated not by the walls
of a college, but by bi'oad rivers and lofty mountains, have
poured upon one altar their wealth and their blood, have
sent up in one acclaim their hearts' prayer, that the God
of our fathers, who has linked us by nature, by kindred,
by all the memories of the past, by all the hopes of the
future, will keep us, in the face of the whole world, one
unbroken, inseparable people.

II.

HISTORY AND OBJECTS OF CAMBRIDGE
SCHOLARSHIP.

Mediaeval Scholarship confined to the Church. — Its Character. —
Revival of Greek Literature. — Erasmzis. — Bentley. — The
Newtonian Mathematics. — General Character of Cambridge
Scholarship. — Advantages in a University Cotirse of Mathe-
matical Study, — and of Classical.

X my last lecture I endeavoured to present
to you some of the local characteristics of
the town of Cambridge, and also some
description of the University, of its con-
nection with the colleges, and separation
from them. I propose in the present lecture, to go a
little more at length into the constitution of both these
corporations, and particularly the objects of their original
establishment, and of their present existence.

We conceive here of a college and University almost
entirely as a place for training young men. It may be
the simplest academy in the Western country, that calls its
head-master President and Professor in the Ancient and
Modern Languages and Physical Science, and itself
Fremontville or Felicity College, up to Harvard and Yale,
— all purposes besides the instruction of youth are mado
strictly subordinate, if indeed they are allowed at all. But
such was not the case with the English Universities at

26 On the Cam.

their foundation ; and such assuredly is not the case now.
I have already stated that the Universities in the Middle
Ages were guilds or companies of men studying the liberal
arts. It might be further added, that they were species of
monasteries, where the vows were not perpetual. We
commonly say that in the Middle Ages there was no
literature out of the Church. But this means a great deal
more than we at first suppose. K"ot only were the abodes
of the regular clergy — the monasteries — the only places
where learning was kept alive through the early barbarism,
but when the men of literature and learning began to
separate from the monastic order ; when colleges were
founded where scholars could study Aristotle and his com-
mentators without the hair-shirt and the cord, the alms-
giving and the eternal seclusion, — still the ecclesiastical
spirit governed all their actions. Their dress, altered from
the monastic, still approached the clerical. In fact these
very words clerk, clerical, clergy, indicated equally a
minister of religion, and a man who could read and write.
As soon, however, as this first great step was taken, —
getting learning out of the monasteries into bodies of its
own, — learned men of all professions were irresistibly at-
tracted to these homes where they were sure to find con-
genial spirits with whom to converse, masters to instruct
them, pupils to consult them, and above all, books, then
indeed a rarity. The highest emoluments and honours of
the colleges and Universities were not then, nor are they
now, accorded equally to cleric and laymen. Still the
great principle was established, which gives the first cha-
racter to an English University. The home of students
in all stages of their literary pursuits gathered to discuss
congenial questions, and consult those helps and authori-
ties that only such associations can bring together.

The objects of study at the time the Universities were
established were few, but not simple. In Aristotle, an author
in very truth of most transcendent eminence, but still hardly
the sum and substance of knowledge, is summed up the

On the Cam. 27

whole object of monastic study. He had collected, they
thought, all the facts that needed collection. He had put
in a convenient and indeed inevitable form the methods of
reasoning, and all they had got to do was to argue ad in-
finitum on his facts and about his principles. They very
soon perceived that the natural history of Aristotle was not
a subject of argument ; he had classified all the beasts and
birds he knew ; that classification could not be corrected or
extended ; those beasts and birds, or others, could not be
better known,\vithout going out into the highways and fields,
and observing facts ; and to observe facts was alike beneath
the dignity of a philosopher, and alien to the habits of an
ascetic. Accordingly they seized at once upon the other
half of the great Grecian's wisdom, — the ethical arid me-
taphysical questions. What a splendid field was there for
suppositions and assertions, for enthymemes and predicables,
for undistributed middles and illicit processes of the minor.
Into these most barren investigations they plunged, shut
up there by themselves, knowing nobody, seeing nobody,
yet discussing with the most perfect confidence the great
problems of human nature ; writing large volumes full of
the subtlest wiredrawn distinctions, but not adding an iota,
it would seem, to the real sum of human knowledge. Nor
did they seek to. The sum of human knowledge for all
they cared, might perish for ever. Laymen, like King
Alphonso, infidels, like the Arabs, might collect facts in
astronomy and natural history, — vagabonds, like Marco
Polo, might perform marvellous voyages, — hei'etics, like
Dante, might agitate the world with strains of verse ; such
was not for them. For the pious ecclesiastic merely whetted
his brains over Aristotle, or copied the ^Eneid and the
Agamemnon as a recreation after his devotions. He could
not see that knowledge and intellectual skill were God's
good gifts to the world ; he supposed that in fasting and
almsgiving and telling of beads, the full destiny of man
could be accomplished. And was it for the other class, the
crafty and designing ecclesiastic, to make science a pro-

28 On the Cam.

gressive business or a useful art ? Xo indeed, — he felt that
his intellectual powers were not misplaced in drawing subtle
distinctions from Aquinas, in classifying the first and second
logical figures, in converting an argument from Celarent
into Felapton. The subtlety so acquired he would use on
a wider field, and for a loftier end ; but that field was not
science, and that end was not the extension of knowledge.
From his Aristotle and his Boethius, from his second in-
tentions and his quidditive relations, he turned to the court
and the camp, the chancery and the parliament. Then
mail-clad nobles and bronzed warriors stood abashed and
speechless in the royal councils before the smooth church-
man, that wheedled the king out of his grants by logic,
and sent his old companions in arms dumbfouudered
from the room by monastic thunders. Then the plain
common lawyers stood aghast to see lands and tenements
carried 08 in the very teeth of acts of parliament, and
decisions of the King's Bench by the neat tricks of some
ecclesiastic, whose doctrine of uses set Glanvil and the
" Mirror" at naught. As long as war was the trade of the
great, and tilling the soil the trade of the low, the church-
men continued first in their monasteries, and afterwards in
their Universities, to reproduce what had been done over
and over again, to transcribe and criticise a few ancient
authors, especially Aristotle, and to bring their intellects,
sharpened thus to the last degree of subtlety, to bear upon
the most important relations of daily life and the civil
government.

And barren as these studies may appear of all true
knowledge, — mere gymnastics of the intellect, which could
have found more normal and honourable exercise else-
where ; — yet they had the softening influence that all study
will have in all time ; and when practised in a loving spirit
and a real faith, though they failed to make a truly learned
character, might give a truly lovely one. The great ob-
server of human nature in the fourteenth century has
given us a picture of the University man of his time so

On the Cam. 29

captivating, that I must relieve my halting prose with
Chaucers's sweet verse : —

" A clerk thcr was of Oxenforcle also,
That unto logike hackle long ago ;
As lene was his hors as is a rake,
And he was not right fat, I undertake;
But looked hoi we, and thereto soberly.
Ful thredbare was his overest courtepy,
For he had geten him yet no benefice,
He was nought worldly to have an office.
For him was lever han at his beddes bed
A twenty bokes, clothed in black or red
Of Aristote and his philosophic,
Than robes riche, or fidel, or sautrie.
But all be that he was a philosophre,
Yet hadde he but litel gold in cofre,
But all that he might of his frendes hente,
On bokes and on learning he it spente,
And busily gan for the sonles praie
Of hem, that gave him wherwith to pcolaie.
Of studie toke he moste care and hede,
Not a word spake he more than was nede;
And that was said in forme and reverence,
And short and quike, and ful of high sentence;
Souning in moral virtue was his speche,
And gladly wolde he lerne, and gladly teche."

Nor were these studies wholly confined to these barren
disquisitions. To develope the theology of the Roman
Catholic Church against doubters and heretics was one
great part of their business, and to the Universities the
Church always looked for her polemical defenders as well as
her temporal assistants. The proper study of Latin litera-
ture had never entirely disappeared, and the manuscripts,
which were copied in the monasteries, were studied at the
Universities ; and not only studied but imitated. The
opinion of the mediaeval scholars was, that you couldn't
have too much of a good thing, and that if the Latin poets
and prose writers were models of style and diction, they
ought to be repeated again and again.* True, they lost

* Admiration, especially in the early stages of civilization as of

30 On the Cam.

the entire spirit of the ancient writers. Conceits of letters
and words, torturing Yirgil and Homer into anthems to
the Virgin Mary, and biographies of Constantine, were the
occupations of a scholarship that considered anything dif-
ferent from what they had already as impious, and with all
their logical subtlety, could not see the really true part of
the Caliph Omar's dilemma, that what was like their pre-
vious possessions was unnecessary.

But the first of the great literary movements of Europe
arose, just as the Universities of England had reached the
last stage of barren repetitions, to shake them, with the
rest of the world, and throw the atoms of their effete
scholarship into a new and vigorous life. The same
Chaucer who gives such a description of the Oxford Aris-
totelian takes the theme of most of his stories from Petrarch
and Boccaccio. In Italy the true study of Latin literature,
not merely to reproduce the words of Latin authors ad
infinitum, but to recast in new moulds what was truly
immortal in them, — the burning rhetoric of Cicero, the
playful sarcasm of Horace, the celestial sweetness and
grandeur of Virgil, — that there might come forth from the
crucible the new Tuscan literature, old at once and young,
was proceeding with giant steps. All over Europe, the
great Universities, while retaining on their formal public
occasions much of their old schoolmen's stiffness, which
they could not break up, still felt the new blood coursing
through their veins, and accepted the new era of Latin
literature so magnificently inaugurated across the Alps.
The legitimate study of the Latin classics, not as un-
changed and unchangeable wholes, but as susceptible of
divers interpretations, and liable to errors of transcribing,

life, naturally leads to imitation. The clever boy writes unwitting
parodies upon his favourite poet. We have often thought that it
must have been some insane admirer of monkish hexameters and
pentameters, who, failing to reach even that humble standard, in-
vented— " Xonsense verses." — ED.

On the Cam. 31

assisted the general course of the human mind to the
criticism of the Scriptures. The Latin version was felt to
be inadequate and incorrect ; the superstition which had
accepted the Vulgate as inspired fell before the advancing
scholarship of the age. The thoughts of men began to
turn eastward, to those wonderful countries where Cicero
and Virgil had studied, and where, in other days, the
original languages of the Scriptures had been spoken.
And just as the flower was ready to burst, even in the
pent-up, stifling air of the mediaeval schools, the fall of
Constantinople and the invention of printing broke down
the last barriers, and let in the free air of heaven to play
around the wondrous plant that had been nursed and shut
up so long. The East filled the West with its men of
learning. The press began to circulate their works, and
among all the splendours of that wonderful age — the dis-
covery of America, the voyages to India, the Reformation
of the Church, the downfall of the aristocracies — there
burst into being no more glorious flower than the gorgeous
blossom of Greek literature.

Yes, my friends, it may be that I am misled by the
passion for ancient learning which literally from my very
earliest youth has held me with a chain I could not sever
if I would ; but I want Avords to picture adequately the
glory of that new land which the revival of Greek litera-
ture laid bare to the eyes of the fifteenth century. Vasco
de Gama had discovered a new way to the treasures of the
East, without the intervention of Persia and Venice ; but
Erasmus and Keuchlin showed the way to a more mystical
Indus, and a more resplendent Ganges, whose treasures
men had been content for centuries to receive, sifted
through meagre epitomists and nerveless commentators.
Columbus and Cabot had raised from the depths of the sea
the sunken Atalantis of Plato ; but More and Politian did
a greater work ; for they raised Plato himself, with all his
glorious brethren, from out the ooze of superstition and
barbarism, to inaugurate a new era of human intelligence.

32 On the Cam.

without which America might as well have remained lost
for ever. To me the revival of Greek literature, after the
dreary subtleties of the Middle Ages, is like the fate of a
traveller who for many weary hours has wandered over
long wastes of barren sand, or lost his track among tangled
thickets and miry swamps, or hewn out a course with
infinite labour athwart the matted branches of some wood
of ancient error. And, as he bursts through the last
obstacle, lo, a new paradise opens on his view ! Stately
trunks of cedar and palm are grouped around him in
glades and vistas, — they are the masters of Attic history
and science ; the soil beneath him is gemmed with a thou-
sand tender flowers of poetry; he hears the warblings
from birds of celestial plumage that dart to and fro among
the branches, — they are the notes of Hesiod and So-
phocles, of Aristophanes and Theocritus ; rills of sparkling
water rush by him to the sea, their banks gleaming with
infinite blossoms and fragrant with countless odours, — they
are the limpid floods of eloquence, the gushing torrents of
philosophy from Demosthenes and Plato. .As he stands
rapt in amazement, new sights and new sounds arise to
greet him, till, dazzled and giddy with excitement, he falls
powerless on the strand to which his steps have led him,
as he hears rattling from the heavens the resistless thun-
ders of JEschylus and Pindar. And there, tenderly,
softly, the waters rise higher and higher, gently embracing
and toying with their unresisting prey, till he floats far off
to sea, lulled to dreams of everlasting glory by the melo-
dious ripple that murmurs evermore along the Titanic
waves of Homer.

From the moment that Greek literature arose in Eng-
land, the English Universities claimed it for their own.
Erasmus, the greatest scholar north of the Alps, passed at
one or other of them the greater part of his scholastic life.
He was surrounded by an illustrious body of coadjutors,
such as Cheke, Ascham, and Aylmer. From that time
forward, Oxford, his early residence, and Cambridge, the

On the Cam. 33

choice of his maturer years, have never wanted a line of
illustrious scholars. In the seventeenth century, the fame
of all Europe was eclipsed by the appearance at Cambridge
of Richard Bentley, the greatest Greek scholar of modern
Europe. A hundred years later, and that hundred years
full of brilliant names, Porson — Richard II. — startled the
whole learned world by his unexceptionable taste, his pro-
found erudition, and his fearless criticism. The lives and
genius of such men, if they come only once a century, are
enough to give a character to the place of their education
and residence. Cambridge is proud of her sons. She is
proud to have caught so soon the light of Greek literature,
as it threatened to be extinguished in the fall of Constan-
tinople, or languish in the midst of the dark ages, and she
still pursues the study of the classics in a spirit of love, of
philosophy, and of progress, which the names of Erasmus,
of Bentley, of Porson, of Paley, show from age to age is
not in vain.

But the learning of the mediaeval Universities, such as
it was, was not only literary but scientific. It was impos-
sible that the general enlightenment on all points of hu-
man knowledge, should not disclose some mysteries of
science also. Trinity College at Cambridge was founded
just three years after Copernicus demonstrated the true
solar system. The new philosophy of the heavens, de-
veloped by the great minds of the continent in the next
hundred years, and accompanied by a host of discoveries
in mathematical science, seized upon England early in the
seventeenth century. They found there a set of men fully
able to compare Eratosthenes and Archimedes with Kepler
and Galileo, Euclid and Apollonius with Regiomontanus
and Commandine. The Cambridge School of Mathematics
and Natural Philosophy soon became even more renowned
than its School of Classical Literature, the more so as
Oxford never manifested an equal interest in scientific
branches. Wallis and Barrow strained the old geometry
to its utmost perfection ; and the latter did more, for to
D

34 On the Cam.

his fostering care does Cambridge owe her greatest son,
and the world her greatest natural philosopher ; for at the
very time when in Bentley Cambridge was vindicating her
claim to lead the classical studies of the world, she asserted
in trumpet tones her supremacy over the science of the
universe, in the person of Isaac Newton.

It is not for me here to enlarge upon the transcendent
abilities of this great son of Cambridge. But even you,
who hear allusions every day to the magnitude of his dis-
coveries, can have no conception of the idolatry with which
his name is revered at the University which trained him.
From that time forward, a system of mathematics and
natural philosophy, founded upon his discoveries, has been
the basis of all the studies pursued at Cambridge. She
has been hailed for a hundred and eighty years as the
school of mathematics for England, the great headquarters
of the true philosophy of the universe ; and to her gather,
from her proceed, all* in England who love to study those
mighty rules of form which bind together the stars and the
earth and all her tribes in one harmonious whole of perfect
proportion, declaring for ever the eternity in the Creator's
mind of order and beauty and law.

In these two great channels, — the mathematical sciences
and the ancient literature, — the studies of Cambridge Uni-
versity have run ; like the course of the river Cam itself, f
numerous mill-streams and branches diverge from them,
but still the main force of the fountain-head is bestowed
on them. It is there that' the learned men of Cam-
bridge chiefly embark the ventures of their intellect, —
their craft sometimes riding smoothly side by side, some-
times jostling in eager controversy, sometimes stranded
on a barren shallow or swamped in a treacherous water-

* It must constantly be borne in mind that these are lectures,
not essays, though it must be confessed that this is a somewhat
strong assertion even for a rhetorical flourish. — ED.

f We object, at least on the part of Pure Mathematics, to this
simile. — ED.

On the Cam. 35

hole, — but still, let us believe, aiming at the same great
ocean of truth of which their mighty admiral Newton
loved to talk. And they are, good men, somewhat im-
patient if it is hinted that there are other streams as bright
and flowing, leading equally to the same sea, ay, or that
the rivers of classics or mathematics flow by other towers
than these of King's and Trinity, or that barks bearing
other names than Elmsley or Barrow can navigate their
water safely. They are too apt to brand as pirates all who
do not bear the four lions surrounding the volume at their
mast-head. But bear with them, my friends ; they have
achieved, in the interpretation of the ancient writers, and
the tracing of the world's harmonies, results of which any
body of men might be proud, — they have soothed an hun-
dred aching brows,* and poured light on a thousand dim
eyes, and while the world shall stand, the reverent students
of ancient wisdom and of modern science shall delight to
turn their pious steps to the ancient halls where so many
great and good have laboured so faithfully, and drink from
the fountain of the kind mother, who bears for her motto
the unfailing promise, " Hence cometh light and the holy
draughts."!

I 'have said that classical studies and mathematics are
not exclusively the pursuits which attract the learned to
Cambridge. The various branches of natural science,
whether organic or inorganic, are pursued with some
vigour ; there are always some votaries of them, scattered
among the scholars and geometers, of great proficiency.
The study of medicine has numerous professors, and liberal
foundations for its pursuit, although the great metropolis,

* It is delightful to learn that there are students who experi-
ence such pleasing effects in the lecture and pupil rooms of Cam-
bridge, and we hope that no American student who may be in-
duced by his countryman's brilliant oratory to come over and submit
himself to the ordeal, will find it necessary, on the contrary, to have
recourse to wet towels round the head, and spectacles. — ED.

t " Hinc lucem et pocula sacra."

36 On the Cam.

with its world-renowned practitioners and crowded hospi-
tals, must always present a more favourable field for acquir-
ing the healing art. A much more important branch of
study at Cambridge is metaphysical and ethical science,
pursued chiefly on the basis of Greek philosophy, but still
by the light of some of the best thinkers of modern times,
of whom no small proportion have come from Cambridge.
In connection with this, the study of ancient and modern
history, and of constitutional law, has never wholly lan-
guished, and of late has received much greater attention.
All those branches naturally derive great help from the
magnificent library of the University, one of the finest in
the world, and entitled, in common with two or three others
in Great Britain, to a copy of every printed book published
in Her Majesty's dominions. This privilege, which, if the
library strictly availed itself of it, would soon become like
the gift of an elephant, is chiefly exercised in procuring
all the new novels, at the instance of the professors' wives
and other ladies connected with the University.*

All these miscellaneous branches have received much
stimulus in the last few years. They are, however, still
very subordinate to the old favourites. But there are two
courses of study pursued at Cambridge, one entirely ex-
traneous to the general course, the other knit in with it,
which deserve a peculiar and separate mention. The first
is the study of the civil law, the second of theology. I
propose to take up a separate lecture with the whole sub-
ject of theological studies at Cambridge, and the connec-
tion of the University with the Church of England. Suffice
it now to say, that such was the hold which the ecclesi-

* This assertion must be taken cum grano salis. An out of the
way room is set apart for works of fiction, which are accumulatec
perhaps too indiscriminately ; but works of more intrinsic value ai
lasting interest are applied for with greater regularity and sooner
after publication than the novels, which are often not supplied unti
the demand for them at the lending libraries has well nigh passe
away. — ED.

On the Cam. 37

astics obtained over learning in the Middle Ages, that the
study of divinity in all its branches was inwrought into the
very marrow and life of the English Universities. Per-
haps it has clung more tenaciously to Oxford than to
Cambridge ; but of this I am by no means certain. At
all events, if Cambridge were to adopt a motto from Har-
vard, she would at once cast aside the fictitious one, " Veri-
tas," for the actual one, " Christo et Ecclesice," with a
special preference for the " Ecclesice"

The study of the civil law was for a long time a favour-
ite one among the ecclesiastics of England. I need not
enter into the causes of this,— well known to all those who
are interested in the history either of the mediaeval Church
or the laws of England. The ecclesiastical courts in Lon-
don adopted its rules in their decisions almost universally;
and, in order that there might be a constant supply of its
professors, the study of it was greatly encouraged at the
Universities, where, indeed, the Doctorate of the Civil and
Canon Laws was to a layman the most honourable title he
could obtain. All parts of both Universities encouraged
this study. But at Cambridge, Bishop Bateman's college,
bearing the name of Trinity Hall, and interesting to all
American readers of English books as the academic home
of Sir E. L. Bulwer, was wholly devoted to the study of
civil law, — pursued entirely apart from all other University
studies, and considerably despised by the proficients in
them. As, however, the career of an advocate at Doctors
Commons, the abode of civil law in London, is very pro-
fitable, the students of Trinity Hall pursued their way,
entirely incurious of the small gains and still smaller hon-
ours attached to residence in Bishop Bateman's halls and
the pursuit of civil law.

I have thus gone through the catalogue of exceptional
studies, apart from the ancient languages and mathe-
matics, whose votaries gather, to some degree, in the
ancient halls by the no-means pellucid Cam. They make
a formidable list; but they are exceptions for all that.

38 On the Cam.

Apart from that I last named of civil law, — and that has
been of late altered, — very few avail themselves of the
opportunity to study even these exceptional branches with-
out distinction previously obtained in classics or mathe-
matics. And thus I am brought to the second great
object with which all the wealth and learning and energy
of six hundred years has been gathered at Cambridge, —
the training of young men in the liberal arts. The Eng-
lish Universities, as the name imports to an American ear,
are not alone the home of learned men, who, as it were,
have already attained, — they are the training-schools for
life : first, of those who would be learned, and, second,
nor this unimportant, of those who have not the remotest
intention of being learned in anything but the world's
ways.

In England, ever since the young were trained at all in
the liberal arts, they have been trained by ecclesiastics.
From the days when the old feudal baron kept a priest at
the castle to teach their letters to his feebler sons who
were unable to bear the weight of arms, to these modern
times, when a noble lady, to my' certain knowledge,
refused to send her son to Rugby because Dr. Temple,
the head-master, had written one of the " Essays and
Reviews," — which she had not read, — the education of the
youth of England has been, is, and, according to present
indications, will continue to be, in the vast majority of
cases, intrusted to the divines of the dominant religion.
The great lord, indeed, took his son to Cressy and Poitiers,
to win his spurs under Edward the Black Prince ; and in
the same age, the son of the Cheapside bowyer, who had
equipped that gallant army, slept beneath his father's
counter to learn the art of manufacture and traffic. And
these two pursuits, war for the son of the mighty, trade
and handiwork for the son of the lowly, divided England
for many centuries. But the passion for learning, that
had burned in King Alfred's breast, burned also in those
of his people. The first impulse for learning was to the

On the Cam. 39

Church, — that haven of dignity and honour, which, in
spite of Mr. Wopsle's lamentations, is thrown open, ay,
and with no narrow portal, to every man in England. The
baron's hall, and the merchant's board, in many cases the
mechanic's forge or the peasant's hut, sent their quota,
year after year, to the two great seats of learning, where
learned men, those who Tcnew themselves, were ever ready
to impart their knowledge, in order to enter that profes-
sion, which might, as in the case of Wolsey, rank the
butcher's sou above the proudest peers in the land, without
drawing steel from the sheath or gold from the purse.

The experience of this remarkable man shows what the
English Universities were in his time. The son of an
Ipswich butcher, he made his way to Magdalen College,
Oxford, at the age of twelve, and took his bachelor's
degree in due course, though in that extreme youth.
Such early proficiency has been seen in other countries
and in later years ; but it cannot have been the ordinary
age of academic training at that time, for the English
Universities were then all that public school and University
together are now. It is stated that in the Middle Ages
fifty thousand persons at once were carrying on their
studies at Oxford. This is inexplicable, unless the Uni-
versity was frequented by much younger persons than
1 now, and the ancient enactments prove the same. No
undergraduate was then allowed to wander in the streets
of Cambridge without the companionship of a Master of
Arts, a rule which Freshmen at Harvard are taught still
applies to the last horse-car from Boston at night ; and
the highest penalties were fulmined against any pupil who
should presume to play marbles on the steps of the Uni-
versity buildings. Down to a still later period, a yet
darker tradition preserves that corporal punishment was
inflicted at Cambridge by the hands of the authorities, and
on no less a person than the poet Milton. Certainly, the
laws of Harvard, modelled by the Puritans on the existing
English colleges, contained directions for its exercise by

40 On the Cam.

the President. The foundation of many large public
schools in the middle of the fifteenth century raised the
Universities, as far as their younger members went, to a
character something above mere academies. At the same
time other professions besides those of arms and the church
began to assert themselves as liberal. The Inns of Court
awarded special privileges for the study of the law to those
who had been apprentices in the two great guilds of learn-
ing. The great revival of letters, which I attempted to
describe, created in the minds of all people a desire for
some cultivation above and beyond the mere study of the
particular calling which was to occupy a man's life. The
new philosophy, introduced by Bacon, himself a Cambridge
man, was every day adding to the brilliancy of its disco-
veries, and felt to be a mighty engine for training the
mind ; — and all these causes attracted to the University,
every year, greater and greater crowds of young men, past
the age of boyhood, to pursue the studies which the reverend
priests there gathered offered to them. For gradually, as
years went on, there was shaping itself a great system of
instruction, partly founded on monastic or even heathen
traditions, partly on recent discoveries, which by the time
of Newton and Bentley, if not a hundred years earlier,
commanded the universal respect of the people of England
as the selection, out of all the world knew of what was
best fitted to render the minds of the young broad enough
and yet hard enough to grapple, to the best possible
advantage, with the great problem of life and their own
special destinies. This system of English University edu-
cation, intended for those who wish to learn, and sur-
rounded by a hundred glittering prizes to stimulate such
a wish, has, in its general fundamental character, re-
mained unchanged for at least two hundred and fifty
years. I must endeavour to give you an idea of it, in its
full bearing: on the youno; men with whom for three years

t/ O v

and a half I have been intimately associated, — and yet I
almost despair of doing so to our mutual satisfaction.

On the Cam. 41

And, first, of the branches of learning studied by the
young men at Cambridge. Plato placed over the door of
his school, " No one untaught in geometry can enter."
Cambridge might put over hers, " No one untaught in
geometry can go through." For the best part of two
hundred years, the basis of all the Cambridge education,
the curriculum whereby the aspirants for University hon-
ours kicked up Olympic dust, was Euclid's Elements of
Geometry ; whereon was raised the superstructure of the
Newtonian mathematics. Dear, indeed, to a Cambridge
man is Euclid. His faith in it is truly sublime. It is to
him not an author, but a system of demonstration, a sci-
ence, a philosophy. There may have been an old Greek
E£«AE/3)}$, — what of him ? He is a Greek, like the rest ;
and, as he didn't write first-rate Greek, why, " Non ra-
gioniam di lui, ma guarda e ^j«ss«." But Euclid, —
Nature's laws are built on it. The fundamental propo-
sitions of geometry never have been, never could be, bet-
ter put than by the old sage of two hundred and fifty
years before Christ, of whom so many editors make such
a controversial medley. A Cambridge man doesn't know
why a certain science is called Euclid, any more than
why another is called Algebra ; one name may be Greek,
another Arabic, and both may be the same word as
Gibberish. It is not his concern. When I entered Cam-
bridge, I was given, in a formal preliminary examination,
a proposition of geometry, which can be demonstrated in
three or four ways, all coming to the same point. I
happened to select a way not given in Euclid. My ex-
aminer— not a great light in mathematics, though a fine
scholar and an admirable man — looked at my work for
some time. " Well," said he at length, " I'm satisfied
with your demonstration. But you must get up Euclid, —
you must get up Euclid." When Dr. Whewell, who under-
stands the whole history of mathematics perfectly, brought
out a new work on Mechanics, he called it the Mechanical
Euclid, because the propositions were discussed by ge-

42 On the Cam.

ometry ; thus showing plainly that he regarded Euclid as
the name, not of a man, but a science. From the dark
realm of this mystic enchanter, which all must enter, at
Cambridge, sooner or later, there was, till forty years ago,
but one steep and rugged pathway hewn out for obtaining
an honourable exit, — namely, the Newtonian system of
mathematics. It was relieved by no physical studies,
except astronomy, through the medium of very superior
instruments ; and by no linguistic studies, except that all
public examinations, essays, theses, &c, were conducted
in villanous Latin. For by a strange relic of the logical
and disputatory studies of the Middle Ages, the candidates
for University honours maintained in public some mathe-
matical thesis, about which they disputed in Latin, never,
as it may be supposed, of the best. To keep up the illu-
sion of the monkish time, and the seven liberal arts, a little
metaphysics and a good deal of theology was thrown in at
the time of the examinations ; but the real business of the
" schools" at Cambridge was mathematics. The disput-
ing, however, was so important a part of the performances
that the first division of those to whom were awarded
honours were called by distinction, the wranglers; and the
head man — the proud recipient of all the glory which at
the end of a four years' course the ancient University show-
ered on the son she possessed most distinguished in her
favourite studies — was called the senior wrangler. In
process of time, the disputations and Latin were all done
away with. An examination from printed papers was made
the test. Yet, still, every year, at the end of the arduous
eight days' trial, the undergraduate who takes his bache-
lor's degree in virtue of passing the best examination in
mathematics, is called the senior wrangler; and attains
the proudest position that Cambridge has to bestow.

And, certainly though unattractive to many, there might
be devised many a worse training for a young man than a
thorough course of mathematical study. There is a com-
mon belief that Cambridge scholarship owes much of its

On the Cam. 43

accuracy to its mathematics. This I do not believe.
Doubtless the error has sprung from the fact that arith-
metic— the form iu which mathematics generally presents
itself to the public — is all accuracy, and nothing else.
But the study of the great relations of form as developed
by Euclid and Newton calls for very different mental
powers. Breadth of reasoning, readiness to generalize,
great perception of analogy in forms and formulae appa-
rently the1 most dissimilar, quickness in transforming one
set of ideas to another, a keen perception of order and
beauty, and, above all, inventive power of the highest
kind, — these are the qualities required and developed by
the Cambridge mathematics. Accuracy is required, but
it is accuracy to establish confidence in past work, that the
next step may be taken in perfect faith, — for more than
any other pursuit does mathematics require faith, implicit
faith, and English mathematics most of all. Englishmen
hate going back to first principles, and mathematics allows
them to accept a few axiomatic statements laid down by
their two gods, Euclid and Newton, and then go on and on,
very seldom reverting to them. This system of mathe-
matics developed in England, is exceedingly different from
that either of the Germans or the French, and though at
different times it has borrowed much from both these coun-
tries, it has redistilled it through its own alembic, till it is
all English of the English. This was the study in which,
for two hundred years, all, and now more than half, of the
Cambridge candidates for honours exercise themselves.

But here comes in the distinction of University and
College to which I have already called your attention.
While for two hundred years the University of Cambridge
awarded its honours wholly for mathematical proficiency,
the separate colleges, in many cases, gave theirs for other
studies. Trinity College, in particular, albeit the college
of Newton and Barrow, was early distinguished for its
study of classical, especially Greek, literature. The great
classical scholar, Bentley, to whom allusion has been made,

44 On the Cam.

was a member of St. John's College, famous for its devo-
tion to mathematics. He was appointed by the Crown to
be master of Trinity College ; and it is, perhaps, to his
headship that we are to refer the great estimation in which
classical studies have always been held in the college of
his adoption. Be that as it may, the taste for classical
studies kept such firm hold on the Cambridge mind, and
produced such splendid scholars, that in the year 1824, a
new final University examination for honours was estab-
lished, for proficiency in the ancient languages. Origi-
nally, and for nearly thirty years, competitors for these
classical honours were obliged to take a certain stand in
the mathematical department, before they could even pre-
sent themselves in classics, but that restriction is entirely
removed, and proficiency in the Latin and Greek languages
is now tested by as searching an examination, and rewarded
by similar honours to the Mathematics. The highest on
the list is called the Senior Classic.

Here, then, is the second great branch of study to which
the attention of young men is called at Cambridge. Ori-
ginally ignored by the University, subsequently rewarded
by a few prizes, then raised to an equality in the examina-
tions, there has always flourished in the colleges at Cam-
bridge, from the time of Erasmus and Cheke, the study of
the languages of Greece and Rome as an appropriate
training for young men.

I need not, my friends, enter into an apology here for
these chosen studies of my University. I know very well
that there are those at this day, and particularly in this
country, who despise, or affect to despise, the study of
Latin and Greek as antediluvian, unpractical, useless.
How sincere their objections are may be shown from their
readiness to interlard their so-called essays and reviews
with a flood of badly-quoted and inappropriate Latin and
Greek. But I challenge all such, — when they have ex-
hausted the last insult on languages they cannot read,
and studies they never pursued, — when they have made

On the Cam. 45

the last misrepresentation, ignored the last issue, begged
the last question, — when the last bull has fulmined from
the Vatican of Progress and Utilitarianism, to the full
as bat-eyed and bigoted as the Vatican of Conserva-
tism,—

" When the satirist has at last,
Strutting and vapouring in un empty school,
Spent all his force, and made no proselyte," —

I challenge them to find any effective substitute, in a sys-
tem of education, out of all their vaunted practical pursuits,
for the poor, threadbare, Old World Latin and Greek. I
know time may be wasted on them, — and I know very few
things on which it may not be wasted ; I know their pro-
fessors become sometimes insensible to all other pursuits, —
and I have yet to learn that men of one idea are found only
among classical scholars. But I believe that classical
studies are still the best mental training for the young in
spite of the errors of which their professors may have been
guilty. And first, I believe them to be so, because they
teach us the actual life of two great peoples, the most bril-
liant, the most powerful, the most famous that the world
has yet seen. They teach us, from the lips of the actors
and eyewitnesses themselves, the early history of liberty,
the establishment of free governments, their struggle with
despotisms and aristocracies, their downfall, — and if Gre-
cian literature taught notliing else, Americans and Eng-
lishmen might study it all their lives to good purpose, —
the downfall of the free republics of Greece for want of a
federative union, — the mysteries of early natural philoso-
phers,— the rise of early moral philosophy, — the gradual
development of the fine arts, painting, architecture, ora-
tory, poetry, — the transactions of the most quick-witted
and acute merchants, lawyers, and politicians the world
has ever seen, — the successive expansion of the art of
war, — the conquests of the barbarians, — the westward
transfer of civilization, — the magnificent, the portentous
growth of Rome, — the contest of military and commercial

46 On the Cam.

states, — the establishment of a system of jurisprudence and
provincial rule, whose hold on the world is far from extinct
at the present day, — the vicissitudes of democracy, oli-
garchy, and despotism, — the substitution of external for
moral graces in a great people, — the gradual decline of
the Old World before the new nationalities, — the gradual
paling of ancient splendours in the glory of the new dis-
pensation. And all these inestimable lessons, that must
be learnt, sooner or later, by nations as well as men, — all
these are taught, not merely in dry catalogues of chro-
nicles, but in ten thousand ways, — by historians, by gene-
rals, by statesmen, by orators, by savans, by artists, by
letter-writers, by bards, clothed in a hundred mantles of
rhetoric, crowned with a thousand flowers of poetry, and all
made living, burning truth to us by the story of the lives
and deaths of countless brave men and noble women who
toiled and suffered, and prevailed through it all. And
then, as if all these treasures of learning and beauty were
not an inestimable fund for research, the casket in which
they are enshrined is, I believe, indeed worthy to be a
primary object of study. Do we, year after year, strain
our Yankee throats to catch from some ex-barber or
sausage-maker the exact twist of the French or German
«, and shall we neglect the two finest languages the world
ever spoke, — nervous, flexible, melodious, admitting of
every expression of humour or passion beyond any tongue
now spoken on earth, — the root, too, of half the languages
of modern Europe, the key whereby the mysteries of mo-
dern tongues are unlocked as by " Open Sesame ?" Can
the world present a study better calculated to strengthen
the memory, the accuracy, the taste, the observation, the
forethought, the comparison of the human mind than in
tracing out the intricacies of language, in comparing the
idioms of ancient and modern tongues, in transferring the
masterpieces of one language into the expressions of the
other? Can the wit of the young find a nobler scope than
the field of two great literatures, confessedly the most

On the Cam. 47

complete, the most varied, the most suggestive, the most
comprehensive the world has seen ? Can there be a better
practice for the lawyer, the statesman, the divine, the his-
torian, the poet, than analyzing the most unexceptional
models of style ever written ? Where should the embryo
general turn but to Csesar and Xenophon, the lawyer and
orator but to ^Eschines and Demosthenes, the satirist but
to Juvenal and Aristophanes? Where can the divine
find, apart from the Scriptures, holier lessons of truth and
goodness than in Plato ? Where can the warm-hearted
friend, the keen observer of human nature, revel with
greater luxury than in Cicero and Pliny ? Where can
the lover of nature find sweeter pictures, the patriot warm
to nobler aspirations, the moralist gaze on sublimer cha-
racters than in the matchless strains of Homer and Virgil?*
Yes, my friends, I am not afraid before you to vindi-
cate my favourite pursuits, — I am not afraid to extol the
value of classical studies for the training of the young.
We need not apologize for their pursuit at Cambridge.
We defend, we approve, we applaud her faithful and suc-
cessful exertions to keep alive the lamp of classic fire. I
shall have occasion to show you that her devotion to them
is not bigoted, exclusive, or undiscerning ; I will close to-
night by recalling to you the panegyric which the great
son of Cambridge has hestowed on the home of Greek
literature, and which by a thousand services Cambridge
merits to have transferred to her, with almost equal
honour.

* We think that many an English reader of this magnificent
peroration, — and how much it loses by being read, not heard, we
know who have listened to Mr. Everett's impassioned periods, —
spoken by an American orator to an American audience, and pub-
lished for American perusal, will be surprised. What ! the Man-
chester school then only partially reflects American feelings and
sentiments? Our cousins are not all vulgar superficial utilitarians?
The worship of the almighty dollar is not the only religion on the
other side of tho Atlantic ? — ED.

48 On the Cam.

" All the triumphs of truth and genius over prejudice
and power, in every country, and in every age, have been
the triumphs of Athens. Wherever a few great minds
have made a stand against violence and fraud in the cause
of liberty and reason, there has been her spirit in the
midst of them ; inspiring, encouraging, consoling : by the
lonely lamp of Erasmus ; on the restless bed of Pascal ;
on the tribune of Mirabeau ; in the cell of Galileo ; on the
scaffold of Sidney. But who shall estimate her influence
upon private happiness? who shall say how many thou-
sands have been made wiser, happier, better, by those
pursuits in which she taught mankind to engage ? to how
many the studies which took their rise from her have been
wealth in poverty, liberty in bondage, health in sickness,
society in solitude ? Her power is indeed manifested at
the bar, in the senate, on the field of battle, in the schools
of philosophy, but these are not her glory. Wherever
literature consoles sorrow or assuages pain; wherever it
brings gladness to eyes which fail with wakefulness and
tears, and ache for the dark house and the long sleep,
there is exhibited, in its noblest form, the immortal influ-
ence of Athens."*

* Macaulay, " Essay on Mitford's Greece."

III.

METHODS OF INSTRUCTION AND STUDY.

Competitive Examinations. — The final one described. — University
and College Lectures, — College and Private Tutors. — Vindi-
cation of the Competitive System, and of the Pursuit of Col-
lege Studies Generally. — " The Wanderers."

N my last lecture I brought before your no-
tice the two great objects which have for
six hundred years been pursued at the Uni-
versity of Cambridge. First, to furnish a
home where learned men might congregate
to pursue their studies, especially those which have for a
long time been peculiarly honoured in England, — mathe-
matical science and classical literature. Secondly, I called
your attention to the fact that this great guild of scholars
had stood forth as a training-school for young men, that
the people of England had found the studies pursued there
a useful and elegant field wherein young men might ex-
tend and sharpen their mental powers and fit themselves
for their special professions, and for the general calls of
life. Unquestionably the original attraction of University
studies to youthful students was that they were what they
set up to be, the whole range of human knowledge outside
of the pursuits of war, commerce, and the mechanic arts.
Now, they can no longer arrogate for themselves so high
a distinction, but as I endeavoured to point out in my last
lecture, we still find, after running through all branches of
human knowledge, that memory, accuracy, correctness of

50 On the Cam.

taste, acuteness in tracing analogies and differences, are
more completely given by the study of classical literature,
than any other subject, — while concise and correct reason-
ing, aptness in applying discoveries, the perception of
natural order and harmony, are most thoroughly inculcated
by an extensive and close acquaintance with mathematics.
In exploring the vast treasures of classical literature, as in
a book already finished and placed on its appropriate shelf,
the student is instructed as to the channels in which the
infinitely flowing minds of the Greeks and Eomans actually
chose to run. It is the whole philosophy of established
form, of the actual, of the past, of history. In the mathe-
matics, on the other hand, he observes how a very few
principles of thought, which are forced upon the acceptance
of every mind by their simplicity and truth, may give rise
to a thousand various, and to the untaught, inconsistent
results, to which every day is adding anew, and to which
there is apparently no end. It is the philosophy of change
of the ideal, of the future, of progress. The first opens to
us the pleasures, objects, and advantages of literature, of
taste, of rhetoric, — the second unlocks, as with a master-
key, the whole range of the useful arts, of science, and of
logic.

And do not mistake me. In thus extending the range
of classical and mathematical studies beyond what the two
expressions commonly indicate to us, I am going no farther
than is really contemplated by their eager votaries at Cam-
bridge. Studied as they are there, in a constant course of
three years and a-half, and with the full intention after
youthful emulation has been rewarded, and the announce-
ment of well-earned honours proclaims that the taskmaster
is dismissed, of continuing within the same honoured Avails,
to plunge yet deeper into the sacred mysteries ;* they are

* We suspect such an intention is somewhat rare; shallower
" plunges " taken hand in hand with less experienced divers, are
what the majority of wranglers who intend to remain at college
propose to themselves. — ED.

On the Cam. 51

pursued with a zeal, a thoroughness, a devotion, which
does permit their worshippers to expect the highest attain-
ments, and makes the picture I have drawn of their effect
on the human mind something more than rhetorical rhap-
sody. Add to this that they have been the favourite studies
for three hundred years, a length of time in which any
system, however doubtful its first principles, must have
fallen into a practical shape, and you will, I think, be
ready to allow that such interesting studies, so long ho-
noured, and so faithfully carried out, must form a useful
system for training young men. So much for the theory.
In a future pai't of this course I shall invite your attention
to some of the practical results, in the lives of Cambridge
graduates.

I propose in the present lecture to call your attention to the
methods of study and instruction adopted in the University
and the separate colleges. In this point Cambridge has long
been remarkable, differing from all other institutions of
learning. Some few other colleges have partially adopted
her system, but none in the entire thoroughness and per-
fection of its details. Yet such are its advantages, the
facility of its practical operation, the general correctness of
its results, that, although beyond a doubt the Universities
are of less importance in England than they once were,
yet this Cambridge system has taken a hold on the consent
of the English people which seems unshakable, and is em-
ployed for a thousand purposes and among a thousand
bodies, the most alien apparently to the University in spirit.

The system in brief is, — to subject all candidates for
all University and college distinctions to the test of com-
petitive written examinations, held at distinct and not fre-
quent occasions, — and to allow the preparation and study
for these examinations to be held whenever and in whatever
way each individual thinks proper.

Hence we have no class system, no daily recitations, no
course of study, no list of rank, no lessons, no text-books,
none of the paraphernalia of an American college, at least

52 On the Cam.

as officially recognized. Some of these things exist, but
they exist as tradition, or choice, or convenience have dic-
tated them, — they are not part of the regular machinery
of the University. The theory in the minds of the autho-
rities, as far as they would consent to admit any theory, is
this : — " Let us propose to examine our undergraduates
in certain branches, at certain intervals. Let us assemble
in Cambridge all manner of instructors, lecturers, and
other helps to prepare for these examinations, and then let
us leave our young men to select for themselves. If they
really wish to study, — if they really seek to come up to the
standard of the examinations, — each will select his own
course and his own instructor better than we can select for
him. If they do not wish to study, if they care nothing
about competition, if they can bring no heart to their
work, it will be entirely useless on our part to attempt by
any compulsion or prescription to make them work under
any course or instructors we may choose." I do not pro-
pose now to investigate the logic of this theory, the whole
consideration of that will come more appropriately here-
after ; let us now take the fact, and see how this theory is
practically worked out.

A youth then comes up, as the phrase is, to Cambridge
University, to compete for its scholastic honours. He is
offered at the termination of three years and a-half, or
rather ten terms from the time of entrance, five examina-
tions, for either or all of which he can enter. All who
answer the questions there set, satisfactorily, are entitled
to receive the degree of Bachelor of Arts. The subjects
of the five examinations are : First, Mathematical Science.
Second, Classic Literature and Ancient History. Third,
Natural Science. Fourth, Moral Science. Fifth, Law.
But the last three, as you will have already understood,
are of recent introduction, of minor importance, and have
never thoroughly taken root at Cambridge.

The examinations in the two great subjects of classics
and mathematics being much the most important of all in

On the Cam. 53

Cambridge, and being the goal of nearly all the aspirants
for distinction, a full description of what they actually are
will not be out of place. In all essential forms, the others
are but copies of them. The candidates are drawn from
all the colleges alike. They assemble, on a Tuesday
morning, at nine o'clock, soon after New Year's Day, in
front of the Senate-House. All are in their academic
dress of cap and gown. A few sympathizing friends who
have already passed the trial, a few expectant friends who
have not, see them to the door. A list of their names has
been previously suspended in all public places some time
before. The Senate-House is the building where all the
public exercises — other than religious — of the University
are held. Outside it is a sufficiently respectable Palladian
building ; inside, a mere mockery. It has a plaster ceil-
ing ornamented with very doubtful reliefs ; statues of
William Pitt and two or three Georges, and some solid,
substantial wood-work in the wainscoting and gallery. I
mention all these apparently trivial circumstances, because
the Senate-House is really a disgrace to Cambridge. On
one occasion, Mr. Gladstone was addressing a vast
audience there, and as he is a member of the sister Uni-
versity, he thought Oxford politeness required him to com-
pliment " the beautifully decorated building where we were
assembled ;" whereat Cambridge politeness was sorely put
to it to keep from laughing. Into this pen of learning
the candidates for mathematical honours pour, and seat
themselves at solid tables on solid benches, — thinking of
very little in the Senate-House besides the floor ; which
is of stone, and very chilling to the feet in January.* As

* And yet we hear that in these degenerate days the Senate-
House is warmed with hot water; what would Mr. Everett have
said if he had gathered his experiences in our time, when all the
warmth we had we took in with us, — when we had to contend with
paralysed fingers as well as deficient memories, and when Frost
and the Examiners were equally searching? His reminiscences of
the cold would not have been confined to the feet. — ED.

54 On the Cam.

the hands of the great University clock on the church out-
side are seen to approach nine, an examiner, or some Uni-
versity official, takes his station at the head of each of
eight lines of tables, with a pile of the printed examina-
tion papers, damp from the press. The instant the first
stroke is heard, a rapid race down the tables begins, a
paper being dropped at every man. Sometimes an ex-
perienced distributor will get through his line, and begin
in going up the next to meet some slower dignitary coming
down. These papers, and plenty of writing-paper, pens,
and ink, supplied gratuitously — hear, O Harvard faculty !
— to all the examined, are all the means at the disposal of
the candidates. They contain, on this first day, questions
on the elements of mathematics, the divine Euclid, and
other easy geometrical subjects, — all such as can be found
in approved treatises, or easily deducible therefrom. They
are set by four gentlemen, of whom two are called mode-
rators, because anciently it was their business to moderate
in the mathematical disputes of which the examination in
part consisted. They are chosen from the colleges in
rotation, from the graduates of most distinguished attain-
ments.

Over this paper of questions the candidates are allowed
three hours, but may go out as much sooner as they wish, —
not of course to come in again ; — for it is a maxim running
through the whole of Cambridge instruction, that a man
is not to be put to do more than he wants to. If his de-
clining to work on a paper subjects him to failure and
loss, that is his lookout. At twelve, then, they must stop.
At one, another three hours' paper. The next day, the
same, and the next. Then a pause of ten days, while the
work of the previous three, all on the easier departments
of mathematics, is looked over. All those who have passed
the minimum asked by the examinei'S, are now announced
as " having acquitted themselves so as to deserve mathe-
matical honours." The rest, O dreadful word, and thrice
dreadful fate, have their names published no more, and

On the Cam. 55

are " plucked." The degree of Bachelor of Arts is not
for them as far as mathematics goes. With these three
days, the ambition of most stops ; it does require a good
deal of knowledge to pass them with distinction; a knowledge
of all the principles, and ten times the detail involved in the
mathematical course in the first two years at an American
college. On the tenth day after they end, begins the five
days' examination, on real tough mathematics, beginning
with the differential calculus, and going up to the highest
calculation of astronomy and optics. "Few are the stragglers,
following far," who stay in after the prescribed half hour in
the last few papers of these dreadful five days, three hours
morning and afternoon. O, many are the luncheons,
mighty the dinners consumed in these eight days. Science
must be fed. The most uncompromising appetites I ever
saw were among my most learned and successful friends in
England.

After the five days, everybody takes a rest. On the last
Friday in January, or thereabouts, the result of their ex-
amination is announced. Again the candidates assemble
in the Senate-House a few minutes before nine, or rather
their friends, for the candidates themselves don't like to
go much. A proctor appears in the gallery with a list.
Five hundred upturned faces below listen eagerly for his
first words. The clock strikes nine. " Senior Wrangler, —
Homer of Trinity Hall." A tumultuous, furious, insane
shout bursts forth, caps fly up into the air, the dust rises
immeasurable, and it takes many minutes to restore the
order that greets the announcement of the greatest honour
the University can bestow for that year. " Second Wran-
gler,— Leeke of Trinity." Another burst of cheering that
would be called terrific, had the other not preceded it.
" Third," and so on down through the Wranglers, or first
class. Now look out. The proctors in the gallery, each
armed with his file of printed lists, proceed to scatter them
to the multitude below. Talk of Italian beggars, beasts
at a menagerie ; why, the rush, the scuffle, the trampling,

56 On the Cam.

the crushing of caps and cap-bearers in a shapeless mass,
the tearing of gowns, coats, and the very papers that come
slowly floating down, hardly ever to reach the floor, beats
any tumult I ever saw, except the contention for coppers
of the Irish beggars on the wharf at Queenstown, before
the tug-boat leaves for the Cunard steamer. At length
all are distributed, and the successful retire with the failing
to talk over the list of mathematical honours for a day.

Each competitor is marked by the examiners according
to the questions he has wholly or partially answered. His
marks being added together, his individual place is de-
termined according to the aggregate. Then lines are drawn,
so as to divide the whole number, generally about a hundred,
into three classes of about thirty-three or four each ; but
often the division is very unequal : for the preference is to
draw the class lines where there is a great gap between
the marks of successive individuals. The relics of the old
disputes are seen in the names of the classes ; the second
and third are called senior and junior optimes, because of old
when a candidate had ended his dispute the examiner said
to him, " optime disputasti" — " very well fought, sir."
And those in the first class are called emphatically wrang-
lers, the head being called the senior. Observe, this whole
system, with its technicalities, is peculiar to Cambridge. In
Oxford, the examinations are on a different plan altogether.
Some Americans think they show their wisdom by talking
about persons who were senior wranglers at Oxford. This
is like the well-meaning, but ignorant people, who will
allude to a public day at Harvard, when half the parts are
taken by seniors, as the "Junior Exhibition."

In about three weeks from the announcement of the
mathematical honours, comes the examination for the classi-
cal. This lasts five days and a-half, and is conducted in
other respects precisely like the former. In the morning
papers of the first four days, the competitors have passages
given them out of the best English authors, prose and
verse, to translate into Latin and Greek prose and verse,

On the Cam. 57

without any assistance but writing materials, at the rate
of say twenty-one lines of Byron to put into Greek tragic
verse in three hours. In the afternoons of the same days,
and the whole of the fifth, passages to translate from Latin
and Greek into English ; the last half day, questions in
history. The result is announced as before, and the head
man is called Senior Classic.

And that is all. I mean that all that a student does to
obtain University honours, to appear before the world as
standing in the list of those whom Cambridge pronounces
her faithful sous, is told, as far as the University is con-
cerned. In these two examinations, which are called by
the curious old name of Tripos, the student only knows
that, Socratically, he knows nothing about it ; that is, any
problem or principle may be set in mathematics from adding
two and two to calculating a planet's orbit : and any pas-
sage set for translation into or out of Latin or Greek, from
Homer to Quintilian, and from Sir John Mandeville to
Jean Ingelow. In fact, the taste of examiners does run
principally on the very oldest and very newest English
writers as suitable to turn into Latin and Greek. The
range of questions, then, is absolutely infinite and unpre-
scribed ; to be sure it has fallen into a traditionary rut,
but a pretty wide one. You see, therefore, how immense
must be the labour to prepare for them, or else how very
judiciously applied, in order that, — it being manifestly im-
possible to study in three years, even when the former work
of school-life is added, all that is possible to be asked, — the
competitors may select the probable questions, and those
which will in any case be useful. Think how immeasurably
superior a knowledge of this kind is to the sorry business
of getting twenty problems or one hundred lines as a lesson,
to say off one day and forget the next. It is manifest that
very careful and judicious instruction is required, that
students may know exactly what and how much to read out
of this vast range, that they may be prepared for the worst.

Who gives this instruction ? Not the University. Not

58 On the Cam.

one word of instruction does the great body of all the
colleges offer, except some lectures, semi-occasionally, from
the professors of Greek and Mathematics. For the trials
proposed by her, training must not be sought from her.
Is it from the colleges, then, that this instruction is to be
obtained? Yes, to a certain extent. Each college, ac-
cording to its wealth, the number of its students, or what
generally is the great moving cause, the activity or lazi-
ness* of its authorities, has a provision for the instruction
of those residing within its walls. It has its own examina-
tions, generally once a year, or, as we should say, for the
members of each class ; and these are progressive, — on
some specified easy ancient authors and the first branches
of Mathematics, the first year; more difficult the second
year ; and in the third, ranging as high as Aristotle and
the integral calculus. Each college adopts its own system
of classifying those who pass these examinations, which are,
I believe, in all cases compulsory, and awards prizes to
those who stand highest. But to get through, just to do
the minimum, is very easy, and a great many of the best
do nothing more ; saying that the preparation interferes
with their regular work. They generally comprehend
something more than just the three old standbys ; e. g.
moral philosophy, ancient history, and in particular very
great attention is paid at college examinations to the study
of the Greek Testament. To prepare for these special
examinations, of which the subjects are always announced
beforehand, there is a great system of College Lectures.
And in connection with the College Lectures and lecturers,
I beg to introduce to you that ubiquitous and very impor-
tant personage, the College Tutor. Under this name
pray do not conceive of a young man just out of college,
whose circumstances make it convenient for him to take a
share in college teaching. No ; the tutor is generally one
of the older graduates of the college, and always the best

* May we not add, "or proficiency?" — ED.

On the Cam. 59

man, the most important, the one whom of all others they
would pick out to represent themselves. He is almost
always a clergyman. To him, or them — for in a very
large college there will be two, three, or even more — is
intrusted the whole care of the undergraduates. As fast
as the young men enter college, they are told off to one or
the other of the tutors — are said to be " on his side" —
and under his control they remain to the end of their under-
graduate course. He has the assignment of rooms, the
charge of bills, the appointment and dismissal of lecturers
to teach, and of college servants to cheat. He administers
not the ordinary, but the extraordinary blowings-up.*
With the head of the college, a very awful being, who in
most colleges has the title of Master, the student has very
little to do ; all his real college affairs, petitions, remon-
strances, <fec. of every kind, going through the tutor. It
is evident, then, that where each tutor has some hundred
and fifty young men's individualities to look after, and a
principal share in the general operation of the college to
look after, he has not much time for instruction. Still,
each tutor generally contrives to give a course of lectures
every term, of which there are three in a year, and they
do find time to squeeze out a great deal of private in-
struction, in the most generous manner. Many a poor
young man would have failed entirely to prepare himself
for his great trials, on the success of which hinges his life's
support, but for the unfailing, liberal, fatherly attention of
his tutor, by his own instructions, and those he obtains for
him. Let me bear my testimony here to the admirable

* The very mildest of tutorial wiggings we ever knew was ad-
ministered to a friend who was a very good classic but a very bad
chapel-goer. The dean, after repeated and ineffectual remon-
strances, appealed to the tutor, who rather sympathized with his
favourite student of the year than with his co-authority ; however,
he sent for the delinquent, as in duty bound, chatted with him for
half an hour about his family, his prospects, and other matters,
and as he was leaving called after him — " By-the-bye, Mr. B., the
dean wants you to keep chapels." — ED.

60 On the Cam.

manner in which these few score of men — for there are not
more tutors in all the seventeen colleges — manage the in-
terests of sixteen hundred undergraduates who scarcely know
to whom they are indebted for their countless advantages.

The tutor appoints assistants, whom he pays out of the
annual payments of the undergraduates, which all go
through his hands, to lecture for him. There are gene-
rally six or eight lectures delivered in a large college like
Trinity every day, mostly on the subjects of the college-
examinations at the end of the year, but some on other
branches of classical and mathematical study, applicable in
the last great trial. There are also lectures suited to the
students not candidates for these arduous honours, of whom
more hereafter. The members of the college are required,
as a matter of discipline, to attend some of these lectures,
but by no means to attend to them.* Once in a while,
when a very stirring lecturer conies along, such as the
present learned and witty bursar of Trinity College, every-
body wakes up and takes notes ; but in general, there is
much more grumbling about having to attend these lec-
tures, where you can learn a great deal, and need not
learn anything, than at our recitations, where you have to be
more or less up to the mark all the time. The lectures are
exceedingly learned, the lecturer doing pretty much what
tutor and student between them do in an American college.

But this instruction, elaborate as it is, does not suit the
best of the English students. It does not work in well to
their system. And that system is, that every one, on
entrance, sketches out for himself a general plan of what

* Strange expedients are sometimes bad recourse to for beguiling
tbe hour devoted to the lecture. On one occasion a watch handi-
cap was got up ; there were five entries, who all passed their
watches, together with one shilling each, to the starter and judge,
who set them all correctly by his own, and so started them fairly.
The winner, however, had taken the precaution of secretly slipping
the regulator as far as it would go to the fast side, a trick worthy
of the Turf.— ED.

On the Com. 61

he ought to do and can do, what examinations he will enter
for, what stand he will take, and then prepares himself in
his own way. And this he does by means of his private
tutor.

The nature and history, or, I might say, the natural
history of these private tutors is among the most curious
developments of Cambridge. They are not in the least
what the name imports to us, a private guardian, engaged
by the parents to superintend the whole course of a young
man's life, and require as well as arrange his studies.
No, even the richest nobleman very seldom brings such a
domestic animal to Cambridge with him. The only
instance, except that of the Prince of Wales, that I was
aware of, was the son of a rich foreign merchant. The
principal event recorded of his tuition was, that this
guardian feared his pupil's morals would be injured by
going to Xewmarket races, which are indeed a fruitful
source of temptation, being only sixteen miles from Cam-
bridge, and, to prevent any surreptitious visit, himself rode
to the races on his pupil's horse. The regular private
tutor is generally known, even by authorities, as a
"coach;" but neither under this name, however, or any
other, is he recognized in any official way. A student
may change his tutor ten times in his course, — now coach-
ing, as we say, with this man, now with that ; he may fail
or succeed in a dozen examinations, owing to the good or
bad instruction he receives ; he may, above all, pay his
tutor many a ten-pound note, and yet no official recogni-
tion whatever is made of a class of men whose position is
certainly the most important and nearly the most lucrative
in the University. There is no injustice in all this ; it is
only a working out of the general principle of the institu-
tion, to find out, at stated seasons, in the most thorough
manner possible, what a young man knows, without seek-
ing to inquire how he knows it.

The private tutors are of all ages and positions in
scholarship. The most celebrated instructor in classics

62 On the Cam.

now resident in Cambridge took the second honours of his
own year thirty years ago. The most renowned mathe-
matical coach, on the other hand, not more than ten years
ago. The first thing generally done by a young man who
has taken his own degree with distinction, is to look about
for pupils among the undergraduates of his own and other
colleges, for it is by no means necessary that a student
should confine himself to his own college for private
instruction. Almost all the tuition I received at Cam-
bridge was by members of St. John's College, being
myself resident at Trinity. Of course, the young in-
structor who has only just finished his own undergraduate
course, must put up with such pupils as he can get, and
they will not be very brilliant or advanced ones, but either
young men just entered, with their powers and intentions
hardly determined, or men far advanced in residence but
not in knowledge, who are determined by dint of constant
tuition to scrape through for one of the last places. As
he grows older in instruction, his pupils will improve. If
his efforts have been successful with the poor ones, he will
attract to himself the better ones, till he is sought out by
those who are now in their last year in college, and work-
ing for the highest places in the lists of rank. Such men
it is a pleasure rather than a task to instruct. Many a
tutor at Cambridge has felt his heart glow to think that
his beloved pupil will soon attain a place in these lists of
honours higher than was his own, and delights to point to
him in the course of a triumphant career at the bar, in the
pulpit, or the senate, as one of his boys. The competition
to obtain a place with a favourite coach is immense, appli-
cation often being made a year beforehand, and the special
pleading of the college tutor or some other distinguished
friend invoked to secure the place.

" What," you will say, " are these tutors so limited in
their numbers ?" Yes, indeed, when like the distin-
guished classical scholar I alluded to a little while ago,
they give an hour every other day to each pupil by him-

On the Cam. 63

self. Ten hours' hard work a day has been thought
enough for mechanics and tradesmen, — how much more
for the head work of classical instruction. So that to
have twenty pupils at once is what the hardiest instructors
must make their extreme limit. Those who are enticing
the youth of England over the gorgeous mosaic that paves
the sweet meanderings of the labyrinth of conic sections,
or fitting wings whereby youthful shoulders may be raised
to the salient points of the differential calculus, — I mean
mathematical instructors, — are beginning to take an in-
definite number of pupils, and collect them in large classes,
but still this is rather for competition than instruction ;
and you may be sure, that the better a student is, the
more strictly he takes his own way for study, and eschews
all idea of a course.

A few words here on the general line of study pursued
by ah1 instructors for all pupils in the two great depart-
ments. It is, perhaps, not so much higher as is commonly
supposed than our own ; but it is very different. The
mathematical treatises are all based on the forms of Euclid
and Xewton. The course of mathematical study ranges
from simple arithmetic to the most difficult problems of
optics and astronomy. It is, however, put in a very con-
cise and conventional form, very different from the ex-
pansiveness of French mathematics ; and many who attain
extreme proficiency in it, have never paid any attention to
more than the most fundamental principles on coming to
Cambridge. The case of classical studies, of Latin and
Greek, is very different. The training in the Greek and
Latin languages acquired at the great English public
schools, like Eton, Harrow, and Rugby, is certainly very
much superior to any acquired at our colleges by the required
course of instruction. I do not think, however, that the
Latin and Greek literature, antiquities, and history, are
understood by many very good graduates of Cambridge
and Oxford any better than by the best from Harvard
or Yale ; and far less in bulk, though probably rather

64 On the Cam.

better arranged, than the flood of collateral knowledge
acquired at the great seats of German erudition. The great
work, as I have indicated in my account of the examina-
tions, is to put Latin and Greek prose and verse into
accurate and idiomatic English ; for bad English will con-
demn a translation quite as soon as incorrect rendering.
There is none of that timidity which in all our schools and
colleges accepts a piece of dog-English, containing neither
sound, sense, nor idiom, under the name of a " literal
translation," and gives it a maximum mark. And again :
the second half of a classical scholar's work is not to put
into doubtful Latin or Greek prose a passage of English
already adapted from an ancient author, but to produce a
first-rate idiomatic version in prose or verse of the best
passages of the best English authors, — Burke, Addison,
Shakespeare, Goldsmith. The high standard of excellence
herein attained is shown by such publications as Lord Lyt-
tleton's translation of Comus into the style of the Greek
tragedians, and the beautiful Yirgilian reproduction of
Keats's Hyperion by that most accomplished son of Cam-
bridge, the historian Merivale, whose admirable chronicle
of the Early Empire seems destined to become a standard
English classic, as the first portion of a solid causeway
which is needed to connect the adamantine structure of
the mighty Gibbon, and the graceful arches of the la-
mented Arnold.

It is evident, then, that the work of the private tutor is
merely supplementary and ancillary to that of the student
himself. The tutor sees his pupil generally for three hours
in the course of a week. The rest of the time devoted to
study, — and this space amounts with a vast number to six,
with many to eight, and sometimes to ten hours a day, —
the student is alone, acting indeed on the advice, and by
the direction of his tutor, but still pursuing his chosen
course by and for himself. For the great trials, where
nearly two hundred of the noblest youth of the world ap-
pear every year to grapple in an intellectual struggle to

On the Cam. 65

which the physical efforts accompanying the fiendish bar-
barities of the prize-ring are as child's play, each one
has with fear and trembling sought to work out his own
destiny.

Here, then, ladies and gentlemen, you have the prin-
ciples of the Cambridge system of instruction, and, as far
as there is any, the Cambridge course of study, Compe-
tition and emulation in the final trials ; private study and
individual selection of work for the means. It is by the
combination of these two principles, to their fullest extent,
that Cambridge sustains the high standard of literary and
scientific excellence, the high reputation for judicious
training, and the honoured name of the mother of great
men, which she has borne so long throughout England
and the world.

And first of the competition. You will have seen by
my previous account, how thoroughly and deeply this en-
ters into the very soul of the Cambridge system. There
is no honour to be attained, no prize to be won, no position
to be secured, without a competitive examination, where
the work of each combatant has its value assigned by an
established standard, and his final place in accordance with
this scrutiny announced in the most public manner. From
the moment a boy enters college, a thousand eager eyes
are on him, a thousand channels of information are drained
to know what position he will take ; and long before he
has officially entered the University, it has been pretty
well settled in the minds of a great many, with what dis-
tinction he is to leave it. The comparative merits of all
the students, the probable results of all the examinations,
major and minor, form a never-failing subject of discussion
in all circles, and at all times. Whether Battie is to be

the next University scholar, whether "W or S

will stand first in classics, whether L has not stolen

a march over R , by a more judicious selection of a

mathematical coach, — all these are questions which never

fail to enliven a weary walk, or a stupid dinner, long after

F

66 On the Cam.

the boats, the cricket-field, the rifle-ground, the news-
papers, or the studies themselves have fallen flat. Pro-
spective success in competition secures a man notice among
his compeers and superiors, and actual success, besides the
immediate advantages for which the contest was held, is
sure to put a man in that position, that countless other
advantages — securing intelligent and promising pupils for
instance — are morally sure to follow. In one word, the
life of a Cambridge student is a fight, — and to the victors
belong spoils, though not of the vanquished.

And now, my friends, what is this that I hear, — that
emulation is only another name for envy, — that competi-
tion in study produces the worst possible results, — that
University rank is an unworthy object for a generous young
man to pursue ? Would you could all go to Cambridge for
yourselves, and see there how completely untrue all this is.
The whole history of Cambridge disproves it. If I had
only my own experience to rely upon, I should feel proud
to name to you all the dear friends I have across the
water; all the dearer to me, because I engaged with them
in all these glorious, bloodless contests, where, like Scott's
Cavalier,

"Our watchword was honour, our pay was renown."

But the whole idea is monstrous. What, that all the asso-
ciations, the friendships, the mutual joys which must arise
where generous youths have lived together for three years,
sharing the same meals, listening to the same instruction,
partaking the same sports, worshipping at the same altar ;
— where they have been engaged in working weeks and
months and years on the same immortal truths of science,
the same refined beauties of literature, comparing their
progress day after day, and hearing it compared, confiding
their daily trials and successes to each other as no other
class of men can, — that all these should be broken up be-
cause the value of these very attainments, their very pro-
gress is to be subjected to the test that they have had in view

On the Cam. 67

throughout their course ? N"o. Emulation and envy can-
not co-exist, — the very fact that we can, that we do emu-
late, shows that it is beneath us to envy. If it were not
so, — if all these tender associations, these golden chains
that college life binds round us were void, what does the
very fact of equal competition tell us ? How thought the
Celtic chieftain, who saw before him the man with whom
he must grapple in the death-struggle for the realm of
Scotland ?

" Sir Roderick marked, and in his eyes
Respect was mingled with surprise,
And that stern joy that warriors feel
In foemen worthy of their steel."

I know there are those, in whom deep-seated envy is the
ruling passion of life. Emulous or not they must hate ;
with such I have not to do. But I know by the joyful
contests, the happy encounters of four years, the mornings
and afternoons of hard strife, succeeded by the noon recess
of hasty comparisons, and the long, merry evening of con-
viviality, that the dearest friends are the closest rivals, and
the happiest hours are in the snatches of competition.

But competition is unworthy ; competition is degrading;
rank is a low object. Then what did St. Paul mean by
holding up the Greek races as a bright example to Chris-
tian energy ? Look round on the world and tell me how
you are to exclude from school and college that stimulus
which is urging men to madness in every pursuit of life.
Is the exchange no field of competition, and is the army
no field of competition ? At the bar, in the senate, in the
pulpit, are there no rivals, no contests, no prizes ? Is the
3roung man whose athletic sports, whose sedentary sports,
whose literary recreations are all filled with competition, to
be kept from it all the hours of education, in order to fit
him for a world where it is pre-eminently the ruling prin-
ciple ? Studying for rank is degrading, is it ? And in
heaven's name, when there are five hundred students all
working together on the noblest intellectual exercises, is

68 On the Cam.

patient industry to have no reward, is idleness to have no
stigma, is genius to lose its palm-branch, and devotion its
crown of olive ? Shall the voice of the authorities declare
all on a dead level, when it is notorious that all are not on
a dead level? Is the whole energy of thirty or forty
learned and wise men to be bent on making young men
study, and shall they not show by any sign or reward who
has complied with their entreaties ? And, my dear young
friends at college, whose motives are so high, whose con-
tempt for the world's prizes is so sincere, whose objects of
pursuit are all so ennobling, is it not a legitimate or
worthy object for any man, to seek the proper position in
his society to which his merits and labours entitle him,
and to strive for the appropriate honour and reward at the
hands of the rightful authorities ?

No, competition in itself is honourable and lawful, pro-
vided only the means employed to succeed are honourable
and the arts wherein it is exercised. And what is the art
wherein the noblest youths of England annually compete
at Cambridge ? Study ; — study of literature and science,
study of language and of law, study of whatsoever things
are true, just, honest, pure, lovely, and of good report.
I have endeavoured to enlarge on the array of learned
men that has in all ages been assembled at Cambridge;
but it needs not. The very air of the place declares that
it is the home of learning, — of book-learning, to employ
the term which, intended to be contemptuous, is in truth
the height of panegyric. The quiet old streets, where all
the bustle so common to an English town has been toned
into a sort of dignity by the authority of the University, —
the calm, wide, sunny court-yards, of no ambitious design,
but just built and added to as the necessities and taste of
age after age prompted for the admission of. the new
students, — the cool arched cloisters, that still echo to the
tread of Macaulay and Byron and Chesterfield and New-
ton and Bacon, and back into the dark ages, which were
illumined only from the two Universities, — the quaint, cle-

On the Cam. 69

rical-looking dress of the chance passer-by, the square cap
and light gown, that seems to say scholar in every fold, —
the libraries, the museums, the Senate-House, the daily
conversation, the technical terms, the habits, all breathe
one word, — Study, Study.

There are those who see in this picture nothing attrac-
tive. A student, a man of books, is to them a shell-fish
sort of being, on whose flesh others may feed with delight
after his death, provided you add pepper and salt in abund-
ance, but whose life is the acme of dryness and stupidity.
To such I neither have nor wish to have an answer. I
can no more argue with such men than Mr. Agassiz can
argue with a gorilla, or than General Grant can argue
with Mr. Davis. But to those who, even if they have not
led themselves a scholastic life, can yet value the labours,
appreciate the pleasures, court the friendship of scholars,
it is a delight to dwell a little on the true joys of a life of
study. Tell me not of the experience of life to an active
man. I will bring you in history the experience of forty
centuries of men. Do not dwell on the popular preacher,
the exciting article, the scathing political satire. I will
find you in ancient literature philosophical speculations
from a heathen that shall put your pulpit-actor to silence ;
I will read you discussions of war and peace that shall be
more true as applied to this very hour than all your quid-
nuncs ever hatched ; I will at the same moment make
your sides shake with laughter, and your nerves quiver
with dread at sarcasm, every line of which would wither
up whole columns of the Saturday Review. Talk to me
of the excitement of interesting investigations, of acute
analysis, of refined calculations and building up of facts ;
I will show you scholars at Cambridge who have traced
out the mysteries of the ancient tongues, have transfused
Burke into ^Eschines, and Scott into Ovid, who have raised
a pyramid of mathematical synthesis as solid, and to the
unlearned as mystical, as those of Egypt, and all from
their books alone, their ever faithful, beloved books. Yes,

70 On the Cam.

beloved ; it is the friendship we form for all the grand old
writers that we would not exchange for the loudest con-
viviality or the most unflinching partisanship of all the
world. We live in the eloquence of Demosthenes till we
leap from our seats, and shout in ecstasy at his prophecies
of glory. We hang on the lips of Aristotle till he has
bound us and all the world in a net-work of irrefragable
reason and rich, nervous language. We walk through
the boxen bowers of Cicero till we catch the inspiration
from that most genial of souls, and feel as if we too might
save our country from a Catilinarian conspiracy. We
fall enchanted into the arms of the sweetest and purest of
mortals, and are ready to barter all the glories of the
world for one hour on the breast of Virgil. We make a
third in that wondrous company that tracked the mysteries
of the eternal prison. We sit in the darkened chamber
of Milton till his blindness becomes our light, and his
misery our paradise. We stroll with Newton, picking up
the sparkling pearls thrown up by the ocean of truth. We
gaze reverently into the face of Butler, as he leads us from
the plains of earth up to the very gate of heaven. These are
the friends that never deceive, that never falter, that never
forget, that never forsake ; " they delight at home, they
speed on the way, in the loneliness of the night they watch
with us, in exile and in solitude they are ever with us."*

My friends, we live in a stirring time. It seems as if
ah1 the pursuits of sedentary life must be discontinued,
that we may rush to carry on the active work that is press-
ing on us from every side. Yet, in the midst of all this
horror and misery, a truly loyal citizen, — who knows
that in the war his life would be a speedy and useless sacri-
fice,— who in the conduct of affairs places and intends to

We hope that the desires and tastes rather than the inten-
tions of the speaker are here expressed. It will he a thousand
pities if this brilliant orator and scholar should, like so manv of
the most intellectual of his countrymen, shrink from the insults and
scurrility which attend political life in America. — ED.

On the Cam. 71

place implicit confidence in the courage and conduct of the
generals, the fidelity and prudence of the Chief Magis-
trate,— such a one, I say, is grateful to Almighty God,
for the ever-growing pleasure, the undisturbed labour, the
spotless prizes, the untainted occupation of scholastic life.
And, when the hour calls, has the scholar ever shown that
his retirement unfits him for his country's service? To-
day* we welcome back the glorious heroes of a score of
fights. To-day our streets are ringing with shouts for the
warriors that never turned their backs on the foe. To-day
we are pressing eagerly the hard-worn hands, and weep-
ing on sun-burnt cheeks of the loved ones who have come
back only to go forth again ; and we are straining our eyes
in the hope that we may catch, by a miracle, a single
glimpse of one of those dear forms that have been reft
for ever. My friends, were there none in the Second
Massachusetts who exchanged the students' chamber for
the battle-field, the volume for the musket, the pen for the
bayonet? Did not the tyrant quiver in his stronghold
when he heard that the manly rustic hearts that had
poured out to drive him muttering back were inspired by
those whose souls were kindled by the flame of ancient
and modern wisdom ? It is because the scholar has de-
nied himself the low prizes of every-day encounter that
he can lay down his life for his country. It is because
he takes no part in meaner warfare that he is ready for
the noblest. Such thoughts have often passed through
my mind, as I contemplated the crowds of my fellow-
citizens, who seemed to delight, at this time, to waste all
their energies in the idlest frivolities, the maddest enter-
prises, the meanest trickeries of public life. And, com-
paring their objects with those of my dear University, I
shaped these thoughts into the lines which follow ; which,
believe me, express the very spirit of the students of Cam-
bridge. I call them —

* January 19, 1864.

72 On the Cam.

THE WANDERERS.

Where hast thou wandered ? Over the plains,
Gathering flowers all bright with dew ;

Round the porch of my rustic home,

I'll twine each blossom of pink and blue.

Where hast thou wandered ? Over the hills,
Gathering berries, black and red ;

Wine shall sparkle and mirth shall ring,

When their crimson life-blood at eve is shed.

Where hast thou wandered ? Over the sea,
Gathering pearls which mermaids weep ;

To-night the sheen of their orbs shall blaze,
In my lady's ringlets dark and deep.

Where hast thou wandered ? Over the town,
Gathering heaps of wealth untold ;

Sweeter than organ, or lute, or harp,
Are the tinkling drops of hoarded gold.

Where hast thou wandered ? In stately halls,
Gathering titles, and power, and fame;

Prouder each day my heart shall swell,
As nations bow to my mighty name.

Where hast thou wandered ? Over the field,
Gathering laurels with blood-stained sword ;

Soon shall I die ; but glory's star
Shines for ever as my reward.

Where hast thou wandered ? In volumes old ;

Gathering wisdom, line on line ;
Flowers and fruit, and gems and gold,

Honour and glory, they all are mine.

IV.

INCENTIVES TO STUDY, AND NON-
STUDENTS.

College Examinations. — Prizes of Various Kinds. — Commemora-
tion.— Scholars/tips and Fellowships. — The "Poll" Degree. —
Professors' Lectures. — Shifts to avoid Study. — Generosity be-
tween Students and N on- Students. — General Discussion of the
Cambridge System.

N my last lecture I endeavoured to illustrate
the methods of study and instruction as
given at Cambridge, and showed that the
basis of the system is competitive examina-
tions of the most rigorous character; and
that the preparation for these is left to the student himself
to make in his own way, there being, properly speaking,
no course of study at all ; that abundant assistance is offered
by college lecturers, who, however, attract, on the whole,
little interest ; and that the mass of the instruction is given
by private tutors, exercising as far as possible a personal
and individual supervision over the line of study selected
by each student. Lastly, I have failed signally to explain
the real state of the case, if you did not understand that
all these arduous examinations and profound studies were
strictly at the option of each student, no one being required

74 On the Cam.

to enter for a degree " in honours" as it is called, or to do
more than just scrape through the college examinations.

But though no requirement is made of the undergra-
duate to enter on this severe course of study, abundant
incentives are offered to stimulate the most sluggish. No-
where is a system of prizes and rewards more generously
established, more fairly earned out, or more actively com-
peted for, than at Cambridge. They may be divided into
three classes, — those for proficiency in the regular and all
but required exercises of college, those for success in spe-
cial efforts, which are entirely optional, and those which
enroll the successful candidate as one of a privileged class.
We will consider each of these in some detail.

At nearly all the colleges, the undergraduates are re-
quired every year to pass an examination in the classical
and mathematical subjects on which lectures have been
delivered during the past year. The members of each
year, or as we should say each class, are examined by
themselves ; and this is one of the few cases, where there
is anything like our class system adopted in England.
There are added generally some subjects on which no
lectures have been given, — such as ancient history and
moral philosophy, particularly as given in our esteemed
friend Whewell's Elements and Butler's Analogy. And
let those who accuse the English collegiate system of
wasting too much time on ancient literature and old-world
learning, hear the last addition made by Trinity College
to her subjects for examination. Among the subjects for
the second year, or as we should say the Sophomores,
every year are the literature, criticism, and history of four
selected plays of Shakespeare. I will venture to say no
college or University in the world is ahead of Edward
III.'s old foundation in this incorporation of modern lite-
rature into its subjects for examination.

At Trinity College, the largest, and in some respects the
model, these examinations are held in the first week in
June, for which reason, I suppose, they are called the

On the Cam. 75

May examinations, and generally last about a week. The
scholarship involved in them is by no means so verbal as in
the great final trials, and everybody, whatever his speci-
alty, has a chance to succeed.* According to the result
the students are divided into nine classes, of ever-varying
proportions, and the names in each class printed alpha-
betically. Printed, I say ; for lists of the result are ex-
tensively circulated by the undergraduates among their
friends. The last class is printed emphatically last class,

* A Trinity friend of ours once owed an ephemeral success to
chance indeed. He was sadly ignorant and idle in his undergra-
duate days, and would have been quite contented at finding him-
self in the seventh or eighth class in the May examination, had fate
not thrust him several classes higher. The day before the exami-
nation he came late into hall, and had to take what seat he could
get, far from his own set, and facing two complete strangers to
him, reading men, who flavoured their dinner with mathematical
conversation.

" Well, now," said one, " what illustration would you give of a
parabola '? "

Our friend had never heard of such an article, and being of a
curious temperament, he listened.

" Why," replied the other, " if a bird was passing me in full
flight, and I shot him stone dead, in his fall he would describe a
parabola."

The next day our friend went up to a viva voce examination with
about twenty other undergraduates, who sat on benches in a long
line, in the order in which their names were written on a slip of
paper held by the examiner, who put questions on several branches
to each, more with a view of ascertaining what subjects he was read-
ing, than his proficiency in them, and appended marks to each
name in accordance with the answers he received, coining in every
instance last to our friend, who sat on the extreme left of the row.
At length he put the query to A, "What is a parabola?" "I
don't know, sir." "Do you know, sir?" " Xo, sir," and so on,
down the line, meeting with a running fire of negatives till he came
to our friend, who replied, much to the astonishment of the others,
who knew him : " If a bird was passing me in full flight, and I shot
him dead, in his fall he would describe a parabola." " Ah,'' said
the examiner, "I see _you are the only one who is reading dyna-
mics, so I will not ask you any more questions. That will do,
gentlemen." And our friend was in the fifth class. — ED.

76 On the Cam.

and not ninth ; that their estimation by the college autho-
rities may be known. But even here, —

" In the lowest deep, a lower deep
Still opens."

There are two official lists, written and not printed, one
framed inside the great college hall, and one posted out-
side ; and on these, even after the last class, appear the
names of those stated as " not worthy to be classed."
About these there goes round the word " posted," and the
malignant will go about breathing the still more dreadful
epithet " plucked," which properly belongs only to those
failing of a degree. These unlucky beings, who cannot
pass the very slight minimum, 70 marks, when the pos-
sible maximum is 1800, are generally requested to sub-
mit to another examination, and if they still continue in
inability to pass this, are reminded that there are other
colleges in Cambridge where the air is less close and
constraining, and where they would be joyfully received as
inmates.

But, oh, what glories await the first class men. For
them are indeed golden joys, and curiously to state, the
fewer the merrier. A fixed sum of money is appropriated
from the college funds, to be divided equally among those
who are placed in the first class in each year, and expended
in books, which are stamped with the college arms. As
the gross sum is the same, a large first class gives small
prizes and vice versa. The books are really valuable, and
the undergraduate is at liberty to make them as much
more so as he likes, out of his own funds ! The size of
the first class at Trinity is for Freshmen between twenty
and thirty, for second year men about two-thirds as large,
for the third year between ten and fifteen. Almost every-
body of real merit in the college tries to be in the first
class the first year, but after that their attention is con-
centrated on the examination for the degree, and the in-
terest in college examinations falls off.

Oil the Cam. 77

Throughout Cambridge groat attention is paid to the
study of the New Testament in the original Greek. It is
incorporated, I believe, into all college examinations, and
not only does proficiency therein advance one in the gene-
ral scale, but special prizes and very valuable ones are
awarded for it. It is considered a particularly honourable
and desirable specialty to excel in this study of the Greek
Testament, even, as in some cases, to the exclusion of all
other branches of learning.

At several of the colleges, Trinity and St. John's espe-
cially, every undergraduate is required at a certain part of
his course, to write an English and a Latin Essay or De-
clamation. This may be, and by the majority is made as
short and perfunctory as possible, but those who do take
pains generally have the privilege — to an Englishman the
condemnation — of reciting their productions, and after the
recitation prizes of very great value are awarded to the
best two or three.

These I believe are about all the prizes which the col-
leges give for excellence in the regular exercises. Next
we have a great variety of special opportunities and volun-
tary competition. Of these the number is immense ; not
only does each college offer many rewards for essays and
poems in English, Latin, or Greek, but the University
offers to all its members several very valuable medals, and
other prizes for Greek, Latin, and English verse, Latin
essays, and also for English prose composition. But all
the University prizes for English prose, which are nume-
rous and very valuable, are reserved for Bachelors of Arts,
it being generally considered at Cambridge, that an under-
graduate has neither time nor maturity to compose a well-
reasoned English prose essay ; nor are facts wanting to
sustain this judgment. There are four other University
prizes, — two, the chancellor's gold medals for those Bache-
lors of Arts in each year who best pass a special exami-
nation in classics, — and two, the Smith's prizes, of like
conditions for mathematics. But about the chancellor's

78 On the Cam.

medals is a singular restriction ; so great was the prefer-
ence given to mathematics, that no one was or is allowed
to compete for the chancellor's classical medal, without
previously having taken a certain rank in the list of mathe-
matical honours, — which is like refusing to let a man
stand for Congress till he has taken a ship round Cape
Horn.*

The University appoints a day in every year when its
prizes shall be distributed, and the successful poems in
English, Latin, and Greek recited. At Oxford, this is the
most brilliant occasion of the year. It is called the Com-
memoration, and is very well described in " Tom Brown
at Oxford," and Miss Yonge's " Daisy Chain." But at
Cambridge it is not made much of. It is generally ap-
pointed in the dead time of year, when the undergraduates
are all away, so that even the prize-bearers often have their
poems recited by proxy. Not that that makes much dif-
ference, for few and far between are the Englishmen who
can read or recite poetry well. Occasionally, when some
great magnate is at Cambridge, as the Prince of Wales,
or when a new chancellor is inaugurated, other exercises
are added, and the day is made brilliant and interesting.
The day is called, as here, Commencement.

The ceremony of giving out prizes at a college — I
speak of Trinity — is amusing. It is called Commemora-
tion, and is in fact a solemn commemoration of all the
benefactors to the college. A special service is held in
the chapel, where the names of all the benefactors, from
Edward III. down, are read at length, a sermon is
preached, and a special anthem sung. The meeting is
then adjourned to the hall, where the Master, dignitaries,
and ladies take their seats at the upper end, and the few
undergraduates present, — for nobody is required to go,
and the day itself is the last of term, — assemble below.

* 'A proposition to tlo away with this restriction was recently
agitated, and has possibly been adopted.

Gn the Cam. 79

Just in the place where there is most draught, between
two windows one way and two doors the other, is placed
a species of pulpit, not unlike the desk I now stand at, on
four high steps. Concerning this pulpit it is told, that,
hefore it came into the possession of the college, a bet was
made that you couldn't ask at a certain variety-store in
Cambridge for anything they hadn't got. A second-hand
pulpit was asked for over the counter, and this one pro-
duced immediately from the store-room. To this rostrum
ascend successively the winners of the first prizes for the
Latin and English essays or declamations, who, as it were
to pay for their success, have to write and speak another
of the same sort on this day. These performances are
almost the only ones in Cambridge where the student can
select his own subject, and it is an old tradition, zealously
adhered to, that the speaker may say just what he pleases,
no matter how offensive to authority it is likely to be. It
was from this stand, about a year ago, that I nearly
caught my death of cold, endeavouring to give John Bull
an idea of Mr. Webster.* The speeches ended, the
various inferior officials proceeded to distribute the prizes,
the old chapel clerk — a college servant — calling out the
names of the prize-bearers. This hoary villain — who is
the image of Eetzsch's Mephistopheles, and always so
called — actually claims seventy-five cents from every
student who gets a prize, under the pretence that he
brings it to your room, which you generally do yourself.
In long order march up the declaimers, the Latin verse-
writers, the English essayist, and the Greek Testament
sages. To each, the senior dean or the head-lecturer
makes some appropriate remarks, except when he has
taken too hasty a look at the list, and assures the first
Greek Testament prize-man, a devoted son of Mother
Church, that he did not hesitate to give him the prize,

* The author's fine speech on this occasion created quite a sen-
sation, and has by no means been forgotten in the college. — ED.

80 On the Cam.

notwithstanding the sarcastic and radical tone of his decla-
mation. Last of all, the first-class men of each year are
summoned, and are thanked for their faithful performance
of the regular exercises of the college. Now attend. The
mighty head of the college, the great and awful William
Whewell, D.D., " Qui nullum fere scribendi genus non
tetigit, nullum quod tetigit, non ornavit," delivers himself
of a few remarks, — few, but weighty. I have once heard
them myself; I have had them reported to me three
times, and their uniform tenor is this : " That your suc-
cess in these examinations will always be interpreted in
your favour by your instructors, and that the present
period is the most important of your college course," the
last remark being successively made to members of the
third, second, and first years.

So much for prizes, properly so called, — the whole
amount distributed in them throughout the University and
in the colleges is over .£2,000 a year ! But the most
important rewards and incentives for students yet remain
to be noticed.

The colleges are corporations. The income of the
wealth which has been bestowed on them at various times
and accumulated during centuries, is held by fellows, the
number of whom varies from sixty at the largest colleges,
to five at the smallest. These corporations are self-con-
tinued,— each fellowship, as it falls vacant, being filled by
election at the hands of the other fellows, or a portion of
them. The emoluments and rights of fellows vary at
different colleges ; but, as a general rule, each fellow is
entitled to a very superior set of rooms in college, to his
meals at the high table, to a certain sum every week he
resides at Cambridge, and to his equal share of the net
income of the college, after all expenses are paid. The
income of the fellows is thus several hundred pounds a
year, — more at some colleges, less at others ; but, in all,
a very generous provision for a single man, just out of
college himself. The fellows have their share in the

On the Cam. 81

college government, though the statutes generally dele-
gate this to the oldest eight or ten among them. From
them are appointed, in most cases, the tutors, lecturers,
and other instructors ; and also the officers of discipline,
but not the chaplains or librarian. The position of a
fellow is eminently honourable and desirable. There are
two drawbacks : removed very recently in some colleges,
and strongly relucted* against in others. First, a fellow
must, after a certain length of tenure, become a priest of
the Church of England. Secondly, — a still more lively
reminder of monastic times, — he must be content to live
in single blessedness.

A portion of the income of the colleges is reserved for
scholarships. Of these, Trinity College has seventy-two,
and other colleges different numbers ; some of the smaller
only six or eight. They are offered for competition among
the undergraduates, according to the result of a very liberal
examination, so contrived as to give every scope for general
ability. The competition is open to members of the second
and third years together; the papers being designedly
rather hard for the second year, and rather easy for the
third. So that from the second year, the best are chosen,
and, a year after, their somewhat inferior classmates, pre-
ference being given to those who have not another chance.
A scholar has generally a set of rooms, rent free, his meals
under certain conditions, and a share of the college fund.
He is like the fellows on the foundation, a real member of
the college, — the mass of the undergraduates being merely
outsiders residing there. The scholarships are tenable
till three years after graduation. A similar examination,
a good deal harder, is held for the fellowships, open to
those who are of one, two, or three years' standing after
graduation. In some colleges no one can be superannuated
as a candidate.f

* Americanism, signifying "submitted to with reluctance?" — ED.
t Some of the scholarships, as the author explains in a chapter
further on, are only open to men coming from certain places. — ED.
G

82 On the Cam.

Now to these two positions, scholars and fellows, no idea
of a beneficiary, or of degradation, is attached. They are
singularly honourable ; they attract immense competition ;
those who turn up their noses at a first class in a college
examination, or a silver cup for an English essay, rush to
the scholarship trial without the ghost of a chance. And
the reason is that all can get them. They are not a pre-
mium on poverty, — no man is passed over because he does
not need assistance. It is held, and in my opinion rightly,
that a superior scholar deserves a share in the college
funds, whether he needs it or not. A student who is poor
in intellect is no better because he is also poor in purse.
Some of the richest men of England have sons who hold
scholarships at college, and it is hailed as a good omen
that the sons of the wealthy feel a pride at gaining some-
thing tangible by their own exertions.

Thus at Cambridge is the instinct of ability for study
fostered and excited into active exertion by general prizes,
by special rewards, and finally by incorporation into the
very life of the colleges, and a more or less liberal pecu-
niary support ; and all of these prizes have a most honourable
character. For those whose circumstances are really low,
there are very ample beneficiai-y funds at all the colleges.
The holders of these are called sizars, from an old barba-
rous Latin word signifying portion. It will be remembered
that poor Goldsmith was a sizar at Dublin University. In
his time, and long after, there were several very degrading
necessities of a servile character imposed on these bene-
ficiaries. All these are done away with, but the sizars
are still restricted to inferior rooms, and cannot avail them-
selves of college luxuries as fully as other students. They
are also required to earn their share of the college fund by
a certain amount of scholarship. It is perfectly true that
the sizars, or as they are called at Oxford, servitors, are
not on an equality of social relations with the others ; I do
not think, however, this arises from any superciliousness
on the part of the more wealthy, but from what may be

On the Cam. 83

called the agrarian ism of the poor, particularly the poor
student that fancies a slight when none is intended.*
Some of the most distinguished Cambridge scholars and
scientific men have been sizars.

The University has also a few very valuable scholarships,
mostly for classical proficiency, awarded at an annual
examination, open every year to all undergraduates in the
first three years. The University Scholarship is the most
honourable distinction next to the head of the Tripos.

So far for the students at Cambridge, for their studies,
their instructors, their rewards. The remainder of the
lecture belongs to those young men at Cambridge who
are sent there to live, as being one of the best places
where a young man can learn to live, — those who do not
intend to study, and whom neither parents nor instructors
expect to study. The system pursued with them is to an
American one of the most curious incidents of an English
University. It is to require nothing of them. I believe
seriously a young man can reside at Cambridge ten years,
if he will, without passing a single examination, or giving
any sign of his existence as far as books, instructors,
science, or literature is concerned. At the large colleges,
where much attention is paid to study, there is some ex-
amination required for admission, and at various stages in
the undergraduate career. These are easier to pass than
not, as there are always plenty of questions that the stupidest
and most wilful must answer in spite of himself. The
University, again, will not give him a degree without ex-
amination. But how if he does not want a degree ? How
if he is content to live a member of some college three,
five, eight years, and never become a Bachelor of Arts at
all ? Yet this is perfectly possible, and constant!}' done.

* A remark of peculiar liberality, coming from the mouth of a
Republican addressing- Eepublicans, and safe to raise any amount
of applause by taking another view of the matter; but throughout
Mr. Everett never condescends to court popularity by disguising
bis real sentiments, which are wonderfully free from prejudice.
" Agrarianism," we suppose, here means rusticity. — ED.

84 On the Cam.

Let us suppose, however, one grade above this depth
of illiteracy. A scion of aristocracy is graciously pleased
to honour Cambridge with his residence for a few years in
order to obtain this degree. Not in honours, mind, like
the classic or mathematician. His aim is the ordinary,
the " poll " degree, a name from the Greek ol 7roM.oi, the
multitude. In order to obtain this, he must pass through
two ordeals. The first occurs in the second year. It is
called by a very few and stiff authorities, and on official
papers, the previous examination, but in ninety-nine cases
out of a hundred the Little-Go. It is the most crowded
examination in Cambridge, everybody who is in his second
year being required to pass it before he can get any sort
of a degree. Those who propose to compete for honours
have a somewhat harder Little-Go than the average.
What, then, is the minimum required of every one,
not to pass which is a bar on all further University
progress ? He is examined in one Greek author, one
Latin author, and one of the gospels in the original
Greek. The particular gospel and authors are appointed
a year in advance. Besides this, he must be prepared on
the first three books of Euclid, on easy Algebra, on Arith-
metic, and on Paley's Evidences of Christianity. This
last is the terrible stumbling-block. In order to pass the
candidate has to do pretty well on all the papers. If he
do very badly on one, or rather badly on two, he is plucked,
and must wait for the next trial. For the Little-Go and
the ordinary degree can be tried again and again.* I

* To middle-aged men who have married, and wish to leave the
army or some other profession and take orders, the Little-Go is a
terrible bugbear; that once passed they can^ cram up enough
mathematics for the degree examination, but having left school so
long, the small amount of classics required for the Little-Go is suf-
ficient to puzzle them sadly. Those manage best whose wives are
clever enough to "coach " them. One stalwart ex-captain, who was
particularly desirous of becoming a rushlight of the church, but
who was plucked whenever he presented himself, is popularly sup-
posed to have received corporal chastisement at the hands of his
better-half on each successive failure. — ED.

On the Cam. 85

know a student, I believe still a member of the University,
who has tried six times to pass this examination, and every
year, as he comes out of the last paper, be begins his studies
for it over again, without waiting to know if he has passed
or not, so sure is he of the fatal result. Those who intend
to compete for honours have a little more mathematics
added to the Little- Go. Suppose this examination suc-
cessfully past. At the end of the third year comes the
ordinary-degree examination. This is on the same prin-
ciple as the Little-Go. There is a Greek and a Latin
author, the Acts of the Apostles in Greek, the History of
the Eeformation, and the Mathematical Theory of Me-
chanics, and Hydrostatics. The successful competitors for
this are arranged in four classes, and in each class alpha-
betically. This is the final examination, in virtue of
which the greater number of students take their degree.
It can be postponed to any time, and any candidate who
actually has entered it and failed can try twice more, at
two additional examinations commonly called the "post
mortem."

Of late, one addition has been made to the require-
ments of the ordinary degree. It is attendance on pro-
fessors' lectures.

You will have wondered that I have as yet said nothing
of the professors. There is a large body of very learned
men who hold the professorships at Cambridge, in a great
variety of departments. They have been founded at
various times from 1503 downwards. They are called by
the names of their founders, like ours, but in rather a
different form. The five professorships founded by King
Henry are the Regius professorships, Mr. Lucas's is the
Lucasian, Mr. Lowndes's the Lowndean, and so on ; the
only ones not habitually altered being the Lady Margaret,
— for an Englishman wouldn't for the world give up a
Lord or Lady before a name, — and a few stubborn names,
like Downing, Knightbridge, &c. The professorships are
University offices, — but some have a connection with indi-
vidual colleges. Thus the two Downing professors are

86 On the Cam.

ipso facto part of Downing College. The Eegius Pro-
fessor of Greek is a Fellow of Trinity, and so a few others.
These professors have always delivered lectures in their
respective departments to voluntary classes, — hut the
audience depended entirely on the personal attractions of
the lecturer ; and except with the attendance of prospec-
tive clergymen and physicians on the theological and
medical lectures, and of a few ardent classical students on
the Greek lectures, the scanty salaries of the professors, —
for the University cannot afford to pay its officers well, —
was but poorly eked out by lecture fees. Accordingly it
was agreed, that, in order to get a little more study out of
the lazy, all candidates for the ordinary degree must
attend a course of professors' lectures, and bring a certifi-
cate from him of such attendance. Of course he will not
grant such certificate without a little examination on the
matter of his lectures. This system has certainly done
the professors' pockets good, but not their reputation in
the University, for by making attendance on their lectures
a distinguishing mark of the jroXAc/, it has sunk them still
lower in the estimation of fine scholars !

This, then, is all asked of the ordinary student ; and
how long preparation does it require to pass this? I
suppose that two months' faithful study on the Little-Go,
and three on the final examination, with close attention to
the professors' lectures, would easily do the work. But
these gay young men have such a rooted aversion to
study, that they will not do even this. No, — they will
put off the Little-Go preparation till one month before,
and the degree till two, and then such working, — such
sweat and shiver, such prayers and curses ! If it were not
for the real misery involved, it would be the most ludicrous
sight in the world, the shifts and dodges that are tried to
pass these examinations without resorting to the sine qua
non, the dreaded hard work. One student has faith in a
particular tutor. " Big Smith " — such is the respectful
name by which one of the most successful teachers is

On the Cam. 87

habitually spoken of — lias got more men through in the
last ten years than anybody else. Accordingly, if you go
to Big Smith, enough,— ^the work is done. Day after day,
hour after hour, some fast young men at Magdalen will
tramp down to Big Smith, — the entire length of the town,
— not having prepared any work, not intending to hear or
retain any instruction, but merely listening in blank faith
to what his tutor says, thinking that now he may go off
and play, for ho has been to Big Smith, and that must
get him through. Another believes getting up early is
sure to accomplish the task, — so morning after morning
he gives his servants enormous fees to pull him out of bed
at seven o'clock. He may have been up till three or four
last night, — he may go riding or shooting, or anything, —
but still, Jones got through last year by getting up early,
and so he is sure to. Then, when they do consent to
study a little, instead of taking the actual books and find-
ing out what they contain, they try to cheat the author out
of his meaning by cards, analyses, abstracts, translations,
and dodges innumerable ; the use of which takes longer to
learn than it would to get up the original properly. And
thus in the same way that the stern, conscientious study
of the honour men brings out a solidity and a brilliancy
that the world never saw surpassed, so this shilly-shally,
inefficient study of the poll men is apt to engender the
most absurd blunders. The number of those related of
the Little-Go and poll degree is immense, and daily
increasing. Some of the old stories, however, may not be
familiar to you.

Paley's definition of virtue was given, — "Man acts
more from habit than reflection." Another youth, who
had read the Evidences of Christianity for his Little-Go,
and the ISTatural Theology for another examination, gave
up all attempts, after bringing out, as an answer to Hume's
theory of miracles, this condition, minus a consequence :
" If twelve men, of known probity, find a watch." On
another occasion, a candidate for his degree is said to have

88 On the Cam.

stated the substance of St. Paul's sermon at Athens to be,
" Crying out for the space of two hours, Great is Diana
of the Ephesians." His neighbour traced a connection
between the Old and New Testaments in the circumstance
that Peter with his sword cut off the ear of the prophet
Malachi.*

It would, however, be unjust to these men to omit that
many of the ordinary degree men begin at the right time,
work hard, and pass a much better examination than those
who, on the strength of a little knowledge picked up at
school, live a lazy life for three years, and just scrape
through at the bottom of the list of honours.

And now, what do these men do the rest of their time ?
They need not study ; are they allowed to play ? Yes ;
to the full extent. They are not allowed to pass a night
away from Cambridge without special permission ; and
most efficient measures are taken to prevent the possible
evasion of this law. But while in Cambridge, they can
have every luxury and every indulgence of the best kind.
Their literary associates, students, instructors, authorities,
do not pronounce them reprobates and profligates because
they live the life that every young man naturally will lead
who has no capacity nor taste for work. And so they do
not force them into a mode of life which they never could

* The blunders of the idle are rivalled by those of industrious
dulness. A friend, who had really studied hard for his degree,
came to our rooms one morning triumphantly waving a paper on
hydrostatics. "Well," we asked, "how have you done ?" " Floored
the paper !" " That is all right. What were the questions ? Let
me see ; — ' Describe a common pump.' How did you do that ? "

" Oh, all right, I think ; look here." And taking up a pen he
drew a very neat pump, with valves and everything complete.

" Well, but the explanation ?"

" Oh, I wrote ; ' let the piston be at its highest point, and
both valves open ; it is evident that as the piston descends the
water, W, will rise up the pipe, P, and flow out of the spout, S.' "
Taking advantage of the valves being opened, we suppose. He
was plucked. — ED.

On the Cam. 89

appreciate, and seldom could endure. They are not pro-
nounced a public scandal for having wine freely in their
rooms. On the contrary ; a student's initiatory experi-
ence is very apt to be as follows : — His father brings him,
on entering college, to the tutor ; this worthy, who has no
time to waste on Freshmen, hands him over to a fellow-
student, " to assist him," as he says, " in making his pur-
chases ;" and as they are going out, the tutor whispers in
the parent's ear — " A very steady, religious young man :
you may trust your son's expenditure to him implicitly."
They cross the street, to a glass and crockery shop, im-
mediately in front of the gate ; the steady, religious friend
turns and says — " We'll go in here first. You'd better
get your decanters and wine-glasses, <fec, at once ; al-
though I suppose you've hardly got your wine down yet ;"
and so on. If the student is disposed to conviviality, all
these same studious friends will crack their joke and take
their glass at his dinners or suppers, laugh till their sides
ache at his theatricals, gaze " with parting lips and strain-
ing eyes" at his cricket matches ; and not, as was once
done at a Yankee college, confiscate his boat, under the
statute which forbade keeping a horse, dog, or other do-
mestic animal. And this is, in a great measure, because
he is not a drag and a dead-weight on their studies ; he
is not a bird of ill-omen at their lessons, constantly lower-
ing their standard of scholarship without raising his own ;
they are not hampered by him as an unwilling coadjutor,
but treat him as a man, a gentleman, and a friend ; glad
of his company on Parnassus, if he desires to worship
Apollo"; but not forcing him up that ascent, when his
heart is with the Bacchanals on Cithseron.

And, on the other hand, the manner in which the
scholars are treated by those who have no taste for study
is equally generous and honourable. They do not stig-
matize them by the exquisitely refined and classical names
of digs or prigs ; they do not take every opportunity to
deride and condemn literary competition; they do not,

90 On the Cam.

finally, descend to that last and most contemptible pitch
of working up th'eir own little, crude, uncultivated talent
to a sort of tinsel brilliancy in the effort to prove, by false
argument and false rhetoric, in debating societies, in
speeches, in college magazines, that it is beneath a man
of refined tastes and lofty motives to show attention and
reverence to the instructors of his University, and to pur-
sue those studies which the world has for ages agreed to
admit as profitable, as improving, as enchanting. On the
contrary, they canvass his prospects in college and Uni-
versity honours with as much eagerness and even more
uncliscriminating heartiness than their own games and
races. They raise a glad hurrah in the galleiy when he
takes his degree, and they hail it as an honour received,
not a concession gained over strictness, if they can secure
his presence at their meetings.

It is this spirit, fellow-citizens, which I wish to see in-
troduced at our colleges. Heaven forbid that I should be
unjust or ungrateful to dear Harvard. Heaven forbid
that I should speak harshly or disparagingly of those asso-
ciates I loved and honoured, or detract from that reputa-
tion for good feeling and generosity so nobly earned by
the class to which I was proud to belong ; there have been
too many brought back in glory to the sepulchres of their
fathers, too many, perchance, forgotten on Southern fields,
for me to visit sternly the faults of my brethren, or draw
odious comparisons between the countries. But I appeal
to my younger friends here to-night ; I appeal to all who
have wandered in our classic groves ; — Is there among us
this noble generosity of feeling, so universal in England,
which trusts each college-associate to choose that course
which is to himself most useful and most honourable ?
How often have I seen the timid scholar driven to conceal
or deny his labours by the supercilious verdict that con-
demned as unmanly and sycophantic all faithful performance
of college lessons because they were such. How often has
an ardent, honest love for the treasures of ancient learning

On the Cam. 91

or science been sneered and hooted down by dilettante
geniuses, who, forsooth, must select a course of literature
for themselves, and fill their rooms with books they never
read. And how often have I seen the very name of duty
and religion made hateful by the bigotry of its professors,
who, in their loud condemnation of the victims of tempta-
tions to which they never were exposed, and difficulties
tenfold greater than their own, force merriment into an
accursed and unnatural concubinage with vice, by expelling
it from its legitimate partner, innocence.

In England the divisions into sets and cliques is much
sharper among young men than here, — but the jealousy
and ill-feeling far less. Every man is honoured, pitied,
or despised according to the character of his success or
failure in his chosen occupation. The oarsman is not the
scholar, the man of pleasure is not the mathematician, but
each of the four and a hundred other trades honours the
others as fellow-men, as fellow-students, as fellow-Chris-
tians. From the highest to the lowest, there is a hearty
recognition of the sacred truth, " that we are many mem-
bers in one body, and all members have not the same
office. The eye cannot say to the hand, I have no need
of thee, neither the head to the feet, I have no need of
you." For my own thoughts of Cambridge, I value my
successes, I regret my failures in the competitions of
scholarship. I remember with never-dying affection the
days and nights passed with the associates of study. I
wear every clay the gay badge of our ancient boat-club.
But I never let myself be separated from another jewel,
that recalls to me the dear friend Death will never show
to me again, — that perfectly sweet and unselfish soul, en-
deared to me by a hundred hours of enjoyment, whose
generosity excused all his failings, and whose countless
frailties and errors are now reposing in trembling hope,
together with his perfect love to God and man.

This, then, ladies and gentlemen, is the Cambridge
system. For those who will study, the highest induce-

92 On the Cam.

ments, for those who do not care to, a certain slight re-
quirement, as a condition for University rank, and even
this dispensed with for those to whom that rank is a nullity.
I do not propose to go into the countless questions that
will arise to all of you. Some of the details will appear in
the course of these lectures, and the others are either un-
important to the general comprehension of the system, or
of too technical a character to be understood in a descrip-
tion like this. I therefore propose to go no farther into
the account of Cambridge studies, except as far as they
may react on Cambridge life, which will form the next
division of my course ; but to ask your attention for the
rest of the evening to the general effects of the whole
system of instruction and acquirement on its subjects.

And, in the first place, the life of a Cambridge student
is a hard one. It is no path of flowers ; still less a bed of
roses. The scholars at Cambridge are hard-working men,
labouring for dear life to obtain prizes and honours offered,
perhaps, in the ratio of one to every five competitors. Among
these men there is no place for dabblers or dilettanti.
With many of them their livelihood as schoolmasters, or
clergymen, depends on their success in scholarship ; with
others, their early introduction into law or Parliament ;
and with all of them, that is, all the good ones, it is a real
paramount business. For, of all things, an Englishman,
and especially a Cantab, detests a Jack-of-all-trades, —
a student who does a little classics and a little mathematics,
a little rowing or a little debating.* If such a man, if
any man, after taking up the regular studies in the place,
begins to flag or fail, his private tutor will unhesitatingly
inform him some day that their connection will terminate
with that term. The tutors have no time to attend to

* This is right enough in the main, but we have known such a
man taken for a Crichton, and made a hero of, by a large body of
undergraduates, more than once. The authorities never like
him. — ED.

On the Cam. 93

men who play at studying ; they want those who work at
it. You may work up to as high or low a standard as you
please ; but there must be no falling off. Your little ac-
complishments, athletics, poetry, music, all done pretty well,
with which you hope to set off your feeble scholarship, will
only be despised, and you will be recommended to confine
yourself wholly to them, and give up all idea of scholarship,
or else drop them. " Will Perkins get his scholarship ?"
" Perkins ; oh dear, no ; he sets up to be a musical tip,
you know. Then, he's always speaking at the Union ;
he's no chance to get a scholarship, even if he were clever
enough." So far is this dislike to a variety of pursuits
carried, so universal is the opinion that every man ought
to have his specialty, that the prizes — for essays, poems,
orations, &c. — are seldom objects of competition to the best
scholars, and have fallen almost entirely into the hands of
second-rate men, who devote their whole life at college to
writing for them. It is considered no disgrace for the
great men to miss them, nor an honour for the inferiors to
get them. It is held that one man may take to prize-get-
ting as a business, as well as another to prize-fighting.
Another drawback to scholarship is, that your associates
have no notion of your being at all sensitive about your
successes or failures. Your prospects and history are
habitually canvassed in the most open manner. You will
find yourself dropped down or put up — the latter very sel-
dom— two or three places from where you expect to be ;
your habits of wasting time, or injudicious exertion, freely
talked of ; and, if you have failed, your unsuccessful shots
talked over and dilated on most unpleasantly. Scholar-
ship is such a business, that a student must no more wonder
at being told, he deserved to lose his first class, or that he
can't begin to do Algebra, than a merchant to hear of his
house being burnt uninsured, or his mortgage being fore-
closed.

In this way the life of the scholar at Cambridge is, on
the outside, void of all ease or poetry. It is a hard, up-

94 On the Cam.

hill labour, a hand-to-hand fight — though the prospect
from the mountain is extensive, and the conqueror's laurel
a true evergreen. And one word let me say in mitigation.
All that is wanted is, in spite of all this, that the prospec-
tive senior wrangler, or chancellor's medallist, should take
a firm, manly stand at once. If he boldly announces what
he can and will do, and then goes to work and does it, —
be the standard ever so high or so low, — he will have every
facility offered on the way, hearty congratulation if he
succeeds, and kind condolence if he fails. If he have some
little taste for music or debating, <fcc. if he stick to it, and
do it well, he will be praised and shown off to his heart's
content. And, finally, if he is a man of great general
ability, if he can distinguish himself in sevei-al lines, he will
be applauded to the skies, and his name handed down in
the Freshman's Iliad for ever.

The same remarks that I have made about scholarship
being a specialty and a business, apply equally to all the
other pursuits of the University, to the rowing, the cricket-
ing, and the other amusements. They are all taken up
as by professionals and connoisseurs, are all worked on with
might and main. The result of this is a tremendous de-
velopment of activity among all the young men at Cam-
bridge. I can truly say, that all the time I was there, I
never knew but one English student whom I could really
call lazy. There were plenty who did nothing but their
own pleasure, — but they worked at that pleasure so hard,
that to call them lazy was cruel injustice. This one in-
dividual would indeed be a model of laziness to any nation ;
but even he, after putting off the preparation for his degree
far too long, took hold at the very last with an energy and
concentration truly marvellous, and came to a very satis-
factory result.

There are various disadvantages in this system which
would be serious objections to its introduction into our
American University ; but they are disadvantages arising
from the English character and habits, not recognized, and

On the Cam. 95

perhaps not acting as disadvantages in England, and not
peculiar to Cambridge. I shall, therefore, reserve the
consideration of them till I speak in a subsequent lecture
of the relations in which Cambridge stands to England.

O

In closing to-night my account of Cambridge studies, and
the first division of my lectures, I desire to end with words
of commendation. The task is not difficult ; it is rather
difficult to know where to stop commending. But I believe
I shall leave you with the most correct idea of what a
mighty power Cambridge is, by pointing out three great
advantages she has derived from her system of study.

From the subjects of study pursued in her halls have
been moulded all her forms of thought and her tone of mind
for many centuries. I have already endeavoured to bring
out the admirable adaptation of Cambridge studies to
strengthen and train the mind. But they are perhaps
stih1 more valuable as a means of directing the mind in its
subsequent pursuits to a lofty tone of thought. The minds
of men differ as their bodies, — marvellous genius, like
dazzling beauty, may spring up in the rudest spots, and all
the floods of study and sound learning may in vain beat on
the rock of brutishness. But taking man as he is, it is
impossible that any one of ordinary powers, brought up in
a classic atmosphere, contemplating classic models, and
taught in classic literature, should fail in refinement and
purity of thought, in conciseness and elegance of diction,
or that he should be habitually the victim of the crudities
and shallowness that so infest our untrained modern students.
And on the other hand, no one can have truly devoted
himself to the immutable foundations, and the ever-rising
structure of mathematics, without having his mind imbued
to the end of his life with these two all-conquering princi-
ples,— stability and progress. Such has been the history
of Cambridge. Firm in her basis, convenient and elegant
in her design, she has been broad and high in her expan-
sion ; or, to change the metaphor, — in order to plant her
pickets close, to dig her trenches deep, she has not dis-

96 On the Cam.

dained the humble axe and spade ; the armour on her
Amazonian limbs is bright with gold and jewels and sheeny
steel, and plays and glances with every movement of her
frame ; but when the day of battle comes, and she un-
sheathes her maiden sword, the lightning flash of its blade
dazzles and blinds the trembling eyes of sin, and the
trenchant edge deals wounds and death like hail among
the alien hosts of Falsehood.

Again : the system of competition in all her studies has
thrown into the men of Cambridge a common spirit and
energy rarely seen even among young men. All the work
is done in the eyes of a great cloud of witnesses by whom
the scholar is encompassed ; they are marking every step
of progress, and comparing it with their own. He is not
studying alone and unnoticed ; he has a thousand lion-
hearted youths to encourage, to sympathize, to assist, to
conquer ; — their work is his ; their recreation is his ; their
cares are his ; their warfare is his. And thus when Cam-
bridge men act in the world, it is not as scattered indi-
viduals, not as divided factionists, miscalled confederations,
but as one great band of brothers. They know each
others' power, they have measured each others' strength,
they have felt each others' blows ; each knows where his
brother can assist him, or where he must assist his
brother. And thus this great principle of rivalry, so in-
rooted in all the great crafts where man is wont to exer-
cise himself, not only stimulates and energizes the student,
but unites and vivifies the great body of graduates, who,
when their warfare is over, unite to carry through the
world the honour and glory of their Alma Mater.

But it is from the last element in her system of study,
— the element of individual action, that each student shall
choose his own course for himself, and carry it out by
himself, — that Cambridge derives her peculiar strength
and power. It is by this that her student obtains a sense
of personal duty in his work that nothing else can give.
There is no compulsion on him ; no task-work. Silently

On the Cam. 97

arc the doors of the mother's temple thrown open ; if he
will, he may enter, and take his place with the initiated.
If, therefore, he choose to enter, rather than remain with
the jesting throng without, it is for his honour and his
conscience to carry out the noble work he has undertaken.
If he fail aright to gain the mystic secret, — if, when the
heavens are about to open, and the revelation of the tender
goddess to descend, he mar the ceremony with words or
acts of ill-omen, — when the minister thrusts him from
the temple, he will see the sad faces of the worshippers
turned to him, saying plainer than words, " Thou thyself
would'st have it so." It is this spirit of individual obliga-
tion that has carried the men of Cambridge to such glory.
Whether it be Bacon, selecting all knowledge for his
province ; or Cromwell, standing alone against the bigotry
of the Commons, the plots of the Cavaliers, and the
hatred of Europe ; or Milton, seeing in blindness, in
poverty, in obloquy, the visions which none other saw, and
making it his chosen work to justify the ways of God to
men ; or Newton, dashing at a blow all the nice systems
of the world concocted by French subtlety ; or Paley,
alone daring to strike at the towering spires of serpentine
infidelity ; or Pitt, holding to the supreme power, when
yet a boy, against the incensed senate ; or Macaulay,
fighting for truth and justice, against the entire fanaticism
and malice of Scotland ; still throughout the earth are
sounding the mighty footsteps of the sons of Cambridge,
treading fearlessly in their chosen course, like the hero of
old, for the star of their mother points the way.

V.
LIFE OF AN UNDERGRADUATE— REGULAR.

Trinity College selected as the Type. — Dinner in Hall. — College
Kitchen and Courtyard. — Union Society. — Vespers on a
Saint's Day. — A Student's Evening. — A Breakfast Party. —
Treatment of Younger by Older Classes. — Private Tutor. — A
Walk.

N my lectures hitherto I have brought to
your notice the objects, methods, and in-
centives to study at the University of Cam-
bridge, and considered how far these were
compulsory on the undergraduate, and — to
a certain extent — what was their effect upon him. In short,
I have tried to give the University from the point of view
of the authorities. I propose in the five following lectures to
take it up from the student's point of view, and consider
what is the life of the young men at Cambridge, and what
position they have taken in the world after leaving it ; in
other words, what manner of men are there now, and what
manner of men have been there in years past.

If I were to attempt a theoretical description of student-
life at Cambridge, laying down accurately wherein it
resembles and wherein it contradicts the system of Ameri-
can or German Universities, I should be at a loss where to
begin or end. The simplest method will be to take up the
life of the student practically, — to pass a day with an

On the Cam. 99

undergraduate. Let us, then, to-night see what a Cam-
bridge man does in the course of an ordinary day's expe-
rience, and on Friday we will go with him to some of his
more exceptional duties and pleasures, which, when they
occur, rather conflict with the ordinary passage of events.
In the course of this little friendly visit, the explanations
of various technical points will occur more naturally than
if we attempted to reduce them to a philosophical system.
Our new acquaintance, then, is a pensioner of Trinity
College, Cambridge, in his second year. Pensioner is the
name given to the great mass of students who pay for
their board and lodging, and are in no way on the foun-
dation of the College. I have chosen Trinity as the typical
college for several reasons. In the first place it is the
largest, having more than twice as many residents as the
next largest. In the second place, it contains undergra-
duates of all tastes ; science and literature are almost
equally pursued there, and, in almost all cases, it stands
at the head of all the athletic and sporting interests.
Furthermore, it was my college. The first thing every
Englishman, and particularly every Cambridge man, does
after you are introduced to him is to ask you to dinner.
We will, therefore, take a plain dinner with our friend in
the hall of Trinity at four o'clock, p. M. The hall is an
immense structure, of the age of James I, a hundred feet
long, forty wide, and fifty high. Its high -peaked roof
shows exposed the quaintly-ornamental rafters of massive
oak, and the open lantern at the top allows the pigeons to
fly in and out at all hours. The floor is of solid stone,
though raised many feet above the ground. The walls are
wainscoted up to their full height, and covered with por-
traits of the great men and benefactors of Trinity. The
lofty Tudor windows, especially where, at the upper end,
a species of transept opens right and left into two gor-
geous oriels, are decorated with coats-of-arms of the peers
and bishops that Trinity has nurtured. Conspicuous at
the upper end is blazoned, in gilded wood, the arms of

100 On the Cam.

England, France, and Ireland, and beneath the motto of
the Virgin Queen, the triumphant " Semper Eadem."
Eight beneath this protecting ensign is raised a double
dais, whereon athwart the hall are spread the tables for the
high and mighty. Below, five ranges of tables extend the
whole length of the hall, of oak, solid as the stone floor
itself, with benches' to correspond, while in the centre is
the quaint apparatus for warming, an ancient open pan or
brazier, piled up from November till May with live coals,
and expelling the colder air from the whole vast apart-
ment. Our friend is seated with his compeers at one of
the benches in the centre of the hall. You observe that
they have all placed their square caps beneath their seats,
— not a very good place, it must be confessed, for an
article easily bent and broken, and, indeed, the academic
dress is seldom in good preservation. They all retain
their gown, which here is made of serge, and of a deep
blue colour, by which Trinity is distinguished, each college
adopting its own form of the general type. At Oxford
there is no such distinction. The gown is a graceful and
light affair. A Bachelor of Arts in every college has a
black one of a little fuller pattern, with two black ribbons
in front. A Master of Arts has a gown more ample still,
while a Doctor of Divinity or Law rustles in full-blown
splendour like the head of the Church.

Our friend remains standing for a few moments while
two of the authorities read alternately a Latin grace,
and then the work of destruction begins. The dinner
this day is rather better than usual, for it happens to be
dedicated to one of the great saints in the English calen-
dar, and on the saints' days poultry and ducks are irnme-
morially added to the ordinary masses of beef and mutton.
The carving, or rather the hacking, is very rough. Every-
body is in a tremendous heat and steam, particularly the
waiters, who are on the look out that too much shall not be
eaten. For observe here one of the exquisite abuses and
vested rights by which the English Universities are eaten

On the Cam. 101

up ; the ample dinner in hall is not provided by the col-
lege authorities. The army of servants, gyps, bed-makers,
<fcc, contract to supply so much meat to the college cook ; *
he sends it up to table, and all that is left, which, pro-
perly husbanded by an intelligent artiste, would furnish
half the next day's meal, goes back as perquisites to the
original proprietors. So day after day you see on the
table nothing but vast joints of beef, mutton, and pork,
except when a blessed saint's day brings poultry. A few
luxuries like soup can be had by paying extra.

The college is so immense, five hundred and twenty-
five undergraduates, that even this monstrous hall will not
contain them all. There is, therefore, two-thirds of the
year, a second dinner for the Freshmen, equally hot and
good, but at the less convenient hour of five. But even
with this, the pushing, fighting, hacking over joints, in a
scene where the attendance is of the roughest, the eating
of the plainest, no regular seats are assigned, and such
little niceties as napkins are unknown, make the college
hall of Trinity pretty dismal, except for a very hungry
man. If eight or ten friends, however, agree to be punc-
tual, and always get the same places, they can do very
well. On one side of the room is a table where the fare
is a good deal neater, if not better, and the attendance
more abundant and quiet. It is that of the foundation
scholars, the best students of their year, who receive this
dinner gratis on condition of extra regularity at chapel.
Still further up on the same side is the table for the
Bachelors of Arts. Here the fare and attendance are

* There is abundance, but served with savage roughness; and
there can be no doubt that the whole system of the Trinity dinners
is disgraceful, and demands a thorough reform. Consider the num-
bers who pay for their dinner every day whether they dine or not,
and what Epicurean banquets a club or regimental messman would
provide with such funds at his disposal ! Not that an undergraduate
requires luxury, but he really ought to dine like a gentleman, not
be fed like a pig. — ED.

102 On the Cam.

very decidedly improved ; wine is provided, and certain
rules are adopted to secure order and quiet. And above,
on the dais, at those tables athwart the hall, — contemplate
with me, if you please, the magnificence of that dinner. It
is the Fellows' table that you see ; the table where those
who are no longer undergraduates, no longer bachelors,
but are resting in the unequalled glory of Masters of Arts
and fellows of the college, in the plenitude of their full-
sleeved gowns, are enjoying one of the very best dinners
ever put on a table. On the festival of a saint, when it is
known that the fare will be something quite surpassing,
each fellow generally asks one or two guests, and happy
are those who get such invitation. In sober earnest —
since the fellows are a good deal shut out from the world
and female society, and are living a regular monastic life,
they are determined to have the very best dinner they can
for their money. Notice those five or six young men in
blue cloth gowns, ornamented with a profusion of silver
lace, who are sitting with the fellows. They are under-
graduates called fellow-commoners, who have the privilege
of sitting in hall and chapel with the fellows on condition
of wearing this very conspicuous gown, of paying nomi-
nally twice, and really three times as much for all college
expenses, and of renouncing all claim to scholarships and
fellowships. At the other colleges, the position of fellow-
commoner is chiefly reserved for elderly men, who study
for the Church late in life, who would not enjoy mixing
with undergraduates, and who are very often married men.
At Trinity, however, the fellow-commoners are generally
young men of rank and fortune, who want to get the most
for their money. You will notice also a couple of young
men near the head of the table, evidently undergraduates,
but still in the full master's gown. They are noblemen,
or the eldest sons of noblemen, and have literally to pay
four times as much for all regular college expenses, and
are fleeced in a hundred other ways.

But your attention is attracted to the lower part of the

On the Cam. 103

hall, — what is that large silver vessel going from hand to
hand ? It is an immense drinking cup, filled with a pecu-
liar brand of strong ale, brewed by the college, and known
as Audit, because every year a new tap is broached on the
day when the accounts are audited. It is only produced on
these few special days in the hall, and is greatly sought after.
A slight scrimmage you will observe arises between our
friend and his neighbour, founded on an accusation that our
acquaintance had both the last draught of the exhausted cup
and its first when replenished. The joints of meat and
poultry are now cleared away, except where a few stragglers
who have come in very late are endeavouring to extract some
comfort out of a sadly torn and plundered leg of mutton.
They are succeeded by atolcrable stock of plain puddings and
pies, — the scholars having the glorious privilege of selecting
their own second course. All this time two college ser-
vants have been walking up and down the hall, pricking
off on two long written — not printed — lists the names of
all present. Observe the gesture of the marker at this
moment. There is an undergraduate at the open door of
the hall, raising his cap to attract attention. The marker
nods and marks him, as being there, though not wishing
to stay and dine. Above where this youth has just ap-
peared, our friend's notice is drawn right in the middle of
his ale, by sarcastic remarks to the effect that he is under
scrutiny. Sure enough, in the gallery opening into the
hall above the door are a large party of ladies and gentle-
men, paying a visit to Trinity College, and stopping to
look down and see the animals fed. There, through at
last. Our friend is off like a shot. He does not wait for
the final grace. This is not read by the fellows them-
selves,— they are too much overcome by their exertions to
be thankful, so two of the scholars are obliged to wait long
after they have got through their own in order to return
thanks for the fellows' dinner.

As our friend leaves the hall, he stops in the passage just
outside the door to read the notices posted upon the open

104 On the Cam.

screen that cuts off this passage. He sees that W. H.
Stone has won the college prize for Alcaics ; the Professor
of Moral Philosophy begins his lectures next Wednesday ;
Professor Harold Browne of Emmanuel will preach next
Sunday in Great St. Mary's, the University Church ; and
the Trinity Cricket Club will meet for choice of officers.
His next step is down a low archway into the great college
kitchen. Here the old institution of a smoke-jack is in
perfection, roasting scores of joints and whole coops of
poultry at once. High up on the old stone walls are two
insignia of the kitchen ; one apparently the shell of a vast
turtle, presage of good cheer ; the other the ancient arms
of the college, the English Lion and Roses, and the grand
old motto, that has sustained the sons of Trinity through
many a hard contest with wickedness in high places, —
" Virtue is the true nobility."* Our friend steps into a
little office at the side of the kitchen, and gives a modest
order. The whole cookery business of a college at Cam-
bridge is really an institution. Each college has its staff
of excellent cooks who not only serve the public dinner in
the hall, but also furnish meals and provisions ready cooked
on any scale of magnificence or simplicity to members of
the college. Considering the superior quality of the food
and cookery, and the promptness with which it is served,
the prices charged are by no means exorbitant. A gra-
duate, bachelor, or master of arts, can order any amount
he likes, merely by signing his name. An undergraduate
is confined within certain limits ; but a special order signed
by his tutor supersedes these, and these tutor's orders for
breakfast, dinner, and supper are accorded with very great
liberality. Having requested the cook to send in a pair
of cold fowls and a tongue in the course of the evening,
our friend retraces his steps, and passes out into the
courtyard.

* " Virtus vera nobilitas."

On the Cam. 105

The Old Court of Trinity is one of the most splendid
monuments at Cambridge. It is far the largest academic
courtyard in England, being an irregular square of over
two acres in extent. On the west side are the hall, with a
few plain modern buildings, containing the kitchen, <fcc, in
connection with it, and also a beautiful bit of battlemented
Tudor architecture, the Master's Lodge, or residence of
the head of the College. On the north is a small row of
plain buildings, of the time of the Stuarts, occupied by
some of the dignitaries, and a fine old gateway, whereon is
a statue of Edward III, founder of King's Hall, the germ
of Trinity College ; beneath him is the motto, " Pugna pro
patria," and still lower the proud announcement, " Tertius
Edvardus, fama super aethera notus." Above him is a
clock, which strikes every hour twice. The members of
the neighbouring College of St. John's complaining that
Trinity clock struck too loud, a second movement was
added which struck in a softer note, and they were per-
fectly satisfied. The chapel, a long, ugly piece of modern
pseudo-Gothic, completes the side. The east and south
sides are occupied by a long series of very comfortable
lodging apartments, the main walls of the time of Queen
Elizabeth, when all the students are understood to have
had beds arranged throughout the length of one or
two long dormitories ; therefore the partitions are more re-
cent. In the rear of one side is access to the lecture-
rooms, and exactly opposite the Master's Lodge stands the
main gateway, surmounted by Henry VIII. without and
James I. within. Every one of these suites of rooms teems
with recollections of the great men who have lived there.
But suffice it to mention one single staircase, leading to six
sets of rooms. In that have lived successively Sir Isaac
Newton, Lord Lyndhurst, Macaulay, Thackeray, and Ten-
nyson. The centre of the court is divided into six plots of
the velvet turf of England, clipped and rolled to the last
degree of softness. It is a high offence for any one under
the degree of master of arts to walk on the grass. In the

106 On the Cam.

centre is a grand old fountain under a magnificent canopy
of ornamented stone-work, near it one of Troughton's
curious sun-dials. But our friend has seen all these
things again and again. He hurries through the gateway.
As he stops to speak to the porter, does he reflect that the
rooms over his head were Lord Bacon's ?

He passes out into the crooked, narrow, busy Trinity
Street. It is full of brilliant shops and dingy lodging-
houses. Immediately opposite the gate stands the entrance
to the last new Court of Trinity, — a gift of the present
honoured head of the College. A few rods through Trinity
Street bring him to Green Street, and up the steps of the
Union Society. The Union Societies of Cambridge and
Oxford are exceedingly characteristic institutions. They
are open to the whole body of the University. Anybody
can join who likes, without the formality of an election,
That at Cambridge contains a very well stocked reading-
room, good library, and convenient writing-room. All the
popular newspapers and periodicals are found there. Its
five hundred members making constant use of it from day
to day, never, perhaps, writing a note out of its rooms, or
reading for amusement anything not supplied by it, are
yet to a vast extent wholly careless of who controls it, or
what it does as a society. Its active working in all the
points I mention is in the hands of two managing clerks.
They are overseen by a board of officers, chosen every
term from among the whole body of members, graduates
and undergraduates. For these offices, in an American
college, the competition would be terrific, the canvassing
incessant, and the meeting for business most stormy.
Scarce anything of this is known at Cambridge. All the
officei's are frequently elected without opposition term after
term. A contested election twice a year is a very large
allowance. And hardly anybody cares about the business-
working of the society. When a contested election does
arise, it is generally on some point like college rivalry,
wholly apart from the real business.

On the Cam. 107

The debates excite a little more interest. Every Tues-
day evening a debate is held in the large reading-room, on
some subject previously announced. Any one is at liberty
to propose a subject ; but there is so little eagerness to
assume this post, that it generally falls on the officers to
find somebody to bell the cat, or else do it themselves.
I should very willingly give you a little abstract of one of
these debates, if there were anything to abstract ; but their
general character is beneath contempt ; once in a while
there is an animated discussion, still less often a good
speaker, and on very rare occasions a full house.* English-
men are not commonly orators ; they consider public speak-
ing as much a specialty, a gift of individuals, as acting or
concert-singing, and, in truth, the orator is put very much
on the same level. Several causes have conspired to raise
in Cambridge, more even than in the rest of England, a con-
tempt for rhetoric. It is considered a jugglery, a cheat,
something contraband, which a gentleman and a scholar
had better keep clear of. Even when a Cambridge un-
dergraduate does consent to express his views in public,
it is in a deprecatory style, as who should say, " Don't tell
of me." I have heard a man, acute, well-informed, lively,
rise to speak on a question he understood and had studied,
and on which he wanted and intended to speak, in a house
that respected and liked him, with a subtle but shallow
antagonist to oppose, and in the certainty of a strong
cause ; and his exordium was in this style. " Mr. Presi-
dent,— I didn't mean to speak to-night, and I haven't
much to say. I don't intend to trouble the House long ;
but, really, the last speaker didn't seem to me to know
what the discussion is about at all. I don't think he un-

* Mr. Everett must remember one or two exceptionally crowded
bouses, when he himself went down to denounce " The Times," or
support the cause of the North. But the period of his residence
was not a brilliant one for oratory; some ten years before the Cam-
bridge Union could boast of several eloquent, and one most hu-
morous speaker. — ED.

108 On the. Cam.

derstood the question, because," <fcc. &c. And all this is
not like the phrases we are so much accustomed to : " Sir,
it is with no premeditated speech that I rise to address
this assembly," <fcc, which, delivered as glibly as a school-
declamation of " Spartacus," causes about as much illusion
in our minds. My friend really and truly hadn't prepared
anything ; he didn't mean to detain the house ; his rising
that night was merely because conscience, reason, sense,
spirit, had temporarily prevailed in the life-long fight with
habit and prejudice which bade him avoid all such public
performances. But they could not prevail far enough to
give dignity to his manner, life to his voice, and spirit to
his diction. Therefore I can give you no better idea of
the Union debates than by leaving them undescribed. In
general, they are death itself. There comes every now
and then a season when a few active souls stir the Union
into life. But even then the animation cannot create the habit
of good speaking, to which the whole genius of the place is
opposed ; and the most intelligent audiences of Cambridge
young men, always professing the most thorough contempt
for rhetoric, are habitually carried off their feet by the
most worn-out claptrap. There are two subjects Avhich
never fail to rouse the flagging interest, and produce lively,
if not eloquent debates. One is anything connected with
the ecclesiastical establishment of England ; the other, any
question of the immediate management of College and
University. The foreign affairs of Europe and America
are tolerably suggestive ; literature, science, and philoso-
phy, dead weights.

But we have been leaving our friend an unconscionable
time on the Union steps ; to be sure he has been discussing
whether Davis will win the University scholarship next year ;
and this all-absorbing topic of interest for the classical
students at Cambridge is enough to excuse any delay or im-
politeness. But now he bounds up, and rushes into the read-
ing-room, for he missed the paper this morning. As he takes
up the " Times," and subsides into a very comfortable arm-

On the Cam. 109

chair, he casually asks his neighbour, " If the Yankees have
got another drubbing ?" but, before he can get an answer,
his eye catches the telegram of the battle of Chattanooga,
and he does not repeat the question.* The "Times" is
soon discussed, a couple of other papers skimmed over, two
or three magazines ditto, and a couple of letters written
and posted. By this time, the deep-toned chapel bell of
Trinity is beginning to sound loud in his ears, and he re-
flects that a slight neglect of the religious services, in the
early part of the week, will necessitate attendance to-night.
It being, as we have said, a saint's day, he repairs to his
room. It is in Letter D, New Court. There are now
four courts in Trinity, — the Old or Great, Neville's, the
New, — about thirty-five years old, — and the Master's. He
crosses the Great Court, defiles past the entrance of the
hall, and emerging in the Neville's Court, slips through a
portion of the cloisters, and under an archway into the
New Court. Already he sees the stream of white sur-
plices filing from every staircase ; for at service on Saturday
evening, Sundays, and saints' days, every member of the
college, except the noblemen, has to appear in a white
surplice, as though he were about to read the service. He
enters the door over which the letter D is painted, the
staircases, or, as we should say at Harvard, entries, being
lettered. His room is gained, gown dashed off and sur-
plice donned. 'Another run across the court; plenty of
time, though, the service does not begin till a quarter of
an hour after the bell. He enters the chapel, a narrow,
inconvenient building, of very slight architectural merit.
It is divided, like all the college chapels in England, into
two parts, by a screen of oak, above which is the organ.
The ante-chapel contains some fine stained windows : the
memorial tablets of many fellows of Trinity who are
buried there ; and three glorious statues. Eight and left
of the passage, through the screen, are those of Barrow

This Lecture was delivered January 26, 1864.

110 On the Cam.

and Bacon, and near the entrance is Koubiliac's master-
piece— the statue of Isaac Newton, with the motto, " Qui
genus Tiumanum ingenio superavit."

But our friend has seen all this before. He does not
stop to notice it ; nor the beautiful carving of Gibbons with
which the chapel itself is filled. At the upper end is the
communion-table, raise d on three high steps ; along each
side of the remainder run two tiers of raised seats, the
masters of arts and fellow-commoners occupying the highest,
the bachelors of arts, choristers, and undergraduate scholars
the second. The seats for the body of the students are
hard benches, with very flat apologies for cushions, not to
sit, but kneel upon, arranged lengthwise throughout the
body of the chapel and chancel. On one of these our
friend seats himself, and watches the white crowd pour in.
The bachelors of arts wear hoods, trimmed, with white
swansdown, hanging down their backs ; the masters, hoods,
of black and white silk, and the doctors, scarlet. Presently
pour in the two rows of chorister-boys, who take the treble
parts ; there are six of these on each side, together with
half the number of adult male singers. The effect of these
eighteen voices is very good, and the responsive parts are
beautiful. There — enter the venerable head of the college,
ushered to a high seat next the door ; follow him the two
deans, — officers who attend to the police-work of the col-
lege,— taking their seats on high, behind the choristers.
The chaplain rises at the upper end. The evening service
of the Church of England is performed, in a manner which
seems very hurried to an American ; but which soon
appears in very favourable contrast to the drawl so common
here. As the " General Confession" is begun, see how
every undergraduate rises from his seat, turns round, and
bodily kneels ; neither sits nor bows, nor any compromising
posture. The musical part of the service is very good.
The Psalms are chanted responsively, and to very beautiful
tunes. The lessons from the Bible are always read by
some member of the college proper or foundation ; to-night

On the Cam. Ill

being a saint's day, by a fellow, on Saturdays and Sundays
by a bachelor scholar, on weekdays by an undergraduate
scholar. This is a very pleasing part of the service, and
greatly interests the young men themselves in it.* All
this time the two markers have been pacing up and down
the chapel pricking down those who are present. The
general bearing of the undergraduates is orderly, except at
the extreme upper end, behind the chaplain, which is in-
fested with talkers, and called Iniquity Corner. There is
always, at the appropriate part of the service, an anthem,
adapted from some first-rate composer, and generally very
well performed. But to-night it is one of those persistent
ones where some refrain, as " Hallelujah," is repeated
over and over again, till it seems as if it never would stop.
At last, — no, just as the whole congregation is going to
kneel, the tenor breaks out " Hallelujah" again, the
counter-tenor catches it from his lips, follow the bass, and
six trebles in full cry " Hallelujah" three times over; and
then, after an interminable peal of " Amens," the chaplain
begins hurrying through — truth obliges me so to say it —
the last prayers. As the clock strikes seven, he concludes ;
and the white crowd pour out.

At the door of the chapel our friend meets one of his
friends, a bachelor fellow. This gentleman was Senior
Classic a year ago, and gained his fellowship the first time,
so he is a model of scholarship and regularity to every one,
and an object of great admiration to the younger members
of the college. They stroll together to the fellows' stair-
case in the cloisters, and he says, " Come round to tea and
whist this evening at nine." The invitation is eagerly
accepted, and off runs our friend, for he must get through
a good bit of work to-night, and it has struck seven. So,
to secure himself from all interruption, he sports the outer
door. These outer doors are tremendous constructions of
hard wood, opening outwards, and so, when fastened by a

* We are truly glad to hear this. — ED.

112 On the Cam.

spring-lock, absolutely impenetrable without a key. When
shut to the}' are said to be sported. Within this barri-
cade our friend's domain consists of a front room about
fourteen feet by thirteen, looking into the court-yard, a
back room not quite as wide, and a small dark cupboard
called a gyp-room, where miscellanea are kept. Into this
receptacle he carefully puts the fowls and tongue aforesaid,
which he finds have arrived from the kitchen in his absence.
As to the internal appearance of the apartment suffice it
to say it is a college room, — though not, on that account,
the carpetless, curtainless den of a bear as we are requested
to believe before Gail Hamilton's errata came out. No,
it is very comfortable, and all the more from having a
good soft-coal* fire in an open grate, instead of that abo-
mination, a cast-iron stove.

Our friend gets out his Plato and Dictionary, and also
writing materials. His first work is to prepare some com-
position, as it is called. This does not mean an English
essay. No, his private tutor has handed him, on a piece
of paper, a copy of twenty lines from Dryden's " Palamon
and Arcite." This, if you please, he is to translate into
Latin Hexameters as near like Virgil as possible. And
he will do it too, and it won't take him an hour and a
quarter to do the rough copy. And the rest of the time
till nine he'll have to read some Plato. And in doing
these verses not a shadow of grammar or dictionary will
he use, and yet the verses will be very far from bad. So
he works away, cheerfully but silently. At about half
past eight a rustling is heard in the back room ; the door
is opened, and slowly appears an aged grim figure, not
unlike the witches in Macbeth, holding a dimly burning
lamp. Yet the brave heart of a Cambridge youth never

* English comforts have evidently entered into the lecturer's
soul. Is soft coal so called to distinguish it from the charcoal or
coke hurned in stoves, which remains hard and crisp during com-
bustion ? — Ed.

On the Cam. 113

quails. He only says, " O, Mrs. Day, breakfast for six
tomorrow at nine, — please order coffee and muffins at
Hattcrsley's." — " Very well, sir ;" and the bedmaker,
who has entered by a door to which she alone has the key,
disappears, laying a funny little twisted note on his table.
It requires an immediate answer, and fearing to trust the
venerable genius of the apartments with his message, he
slips on cap and gown, and hies him to his friend's room
just outside the gate.

As he is hurrying back, nine having already struck,
behold a singular scene. A procession is seen advancing,
consisting of a master of arts in full academicals, with
white tie and bands, and behind two stalwart men, their
coats ornamented with a profusion of buttons. The train
moves speedily up to an undergraduate without a gown,
and in a little jaunty hat. " Are you a member of the
University, sir?" says the clergyman, raising his cap
politely. " Yes, sir." " Why have you not your acade-
mic dress on?" No excuse is apparent. " Your name
and college, if you please, sir." " Jones of Trinity Hall."
" Jones of Trinity Hall ; I fine you six and eight pence,
sir ; remember," — to his attendants, — " Jones of Trin.
Hall, 6s. 8d." — and the train goes on. This is proctoriz-
inc/ ; the reverend one is a proctor, — the attendants are
usually called bulldogs. There are two proctors, and two
assistant proctors, chosen from the colleges by a peculiar
rotation. It is their duty to attend to various University
matters, but particularly to parade the streets in this way,
with their attendants, reprehending all offences against
University discipline or public morality.

Meanwhile our friend has slipped through the gate and
reached his entertainer's rooms in the cloisters. There
on the table are many loaves of bread, little pats of butter,
each, according to the measure I stated, an inch roll, and
sturdy white gallipots of jam, which is eaten wholesale on
bread at Cambridge. All this is from the host's private
stores. Two or three cups of strong tea are discussed.
i

1 14 On the Cam.

and the party sits down to whist. I can't pretend to give
you all their hands, or who won each odd trick ; but I
must, at the risk of shocking everybody, say that all Cam-
bridge, including the steadiest and most religious men,
plays whist and other games for money, though the stakes
are generally small. As the night wears on, frequent
peals at the gate bell are heard. To explain these it must
be noticed, that at sunset all the various entrances into the
colleges are shut and locked except the one at the great
gate. At ten, this also is locked, but the porter is in his
lodge, to let in every one that rings the bell. All entering
after lock-up are registered, and a very trifling fine levied
for all between ten and twelve. After twelve the chain is
put up, and a terrible blowing up is the consequence of
coming in later. If repeated, the results are serious,
though in no way affecting the rank in scholarship.

As twelve approaches these peals come louder and thicker,
— then voices are heard perhaps rather uproarious, — our
friends break up their party. The night is so lovely, that
two or three of them cannot resist pacing up and down the
old cloisters, whose echo sounds like the step of a comrade,
or along the flagged path in the great court, where the
fountain plashes ceaselessly all night long. O these walks
in Trinity Court at night ! Those whose feet once kept pace
with mine are pacing the deck of the Indian steamer, or
mounting guard on the battlements of Fort William, or
treading wearily the narrow rooms of many a school and
parsonage all over England, and some have found rest at
last. But never did lighter feet echo to lighter hearts
than along the gray flagstones of the courts of Trinity.
Our friend at length seeks his chamber, — the fire is happily
not out, and he sinks upon an exceedingly comfortable bed.

At about half past six he is aroused to consciousness by
allusions to the hour and morning chapel. It is from his
gyp, who thinks it proper his master should attend. " No,
thank you, Stacey," is the groan from under the bedclothes.
" Don't forget breakfast at nine." Finally, after a roll or

On the Cam. 115

two, about a quarter past seven he rises, and from his bed-
room window contemplates the prospect. A beautiful old
lawn, still of England's velvety softness, varied by broad
walks under lines of old trees, — on the left is the college
brewery, and on the right the Trinity bridge is visible.
But what he thinks of is the December fog coming right
up the river as thick as a Scotch mist, and freezing him
to the bones to look at. In a few minutes, however, he
is seated in his front room at a nice fire, duly made for him,
observe, by the bedmaker. To her he hands a slip of
paper, — it is an order on the kitchen. He then looks
over and corrects the Latin verses of last night, and reads
a little more Plato ; thus securing a good hour and more
of work before breakfast. At half past eight he moves his
work to another table, for now his bedmaker enters and
proceeds to lay the cloth, together with knives, forks, <fec,
all from his own stores. Nine o'clock strikes, — a great
rattle outside ; enter a boy bearing a waiter covered with
green baize, — green baize taken off discloses cups, saucers,
and spoons for six ; large coffee-pot, full of first-rate hot
coffee, cream, sugar, and hot milk to correspond, two
covered plates of muffins. These, be it observed, are
supplied from the grocer's, outside the college walls.

Knock, — " Come in ;" enter first guest, who throws
down cap and gown in a corner, and proceeds to warm
himself, or look out of the window. Notice the court full
of strong men clad in white, carrying heavy blue wooden
trays on their heads. They are the cook's men, bringing
the breakfasts from the college kitchens to such as order
them. Observe, these hot breakfasts, ordered from the
grocer's and kitchens, are exceptional affairs ; generally,
every one contents himself with bread and butter, from
the college butteries, — a different place from the kitchens, —
and coffee or tea made by himself in his own rooms. One
of these cooks is seen approaching Letter D. Then tramp,
tramp, like the horse in Don Giovanni, — and crash, — the
heavy tray let down on the landing. Delicately are fried

116 On the Cam.

soles, grilled fowl, and curried sausages extracted and set
down to warm before the fire, where a stack of plates has
been undergoing that operation for half an hour.

The rest of the guests soon assemble. They are five in
all ; two in their second year, like the host, and three
freshmen. Three freshmen invited by a second year man !
Yes. They are of course new to the college. And hav-
ing some acquaintance with one of them, having been to
school with the brother of the second, and having already
met the third at a friend's rooms, the host thinks it his
duty, as a gentleman and a student, to show them this
hospitality and every attention he can. For the knowledge
how to furnish his rooms, <fcc, a new-comer almost always
depends on a friend of advanced standing ; in a great
measure his only acquaintances, except his schoolfellows,
for many weeks, are older men, and in short, throughout
his freshman year, an undergraduate looks to those of the
years above him for assistance, advice, and attention of
every kind.

Young men of Harvard ! Do you recognize such a
picture ? Does a new-comer to your college, — just leav-
ing home, just fresh from school, just quitting boyhood,
thrown into a strange place, with a journey to pursue, a
way to make he knows nothing of, among new faces, new
scenes, new occupations, — does he find advice, assistance,
attentions, friendship from those in the year above him ?
Do they seek him out on a slight acquaintance, and endea-
vour to make his path easier? I am ready to hide my
face with shame, when I think of the contrast. I am
a'.most ready to renounce my countrymen, when I think
how I, and a hundred freshmen with me, and ten thousand
before and after, have been received at Cambridge and
Oxford by men belonging to the nation, whose shyness
and indisposition to court acquaintance have grown into a
proverb. For I remember, I see now the despicable
substitute at our own colleges, for this truly gentlemanly,
noble, Christian behaviour. I see the laws of politeness, of

On the Cam. 117

decency, of the land itself, habitually broken ; sometimes
ludicrously, sometimes tragically, but never from any better
motive, than that which, beyond the college walls, con-
demns the character of a man in any society, fondness for
practical joking. I have seen these silly, cowardly, black-
guardly practices, known at one college or another by some
miserable cant name, carried out year after year in one
form or another, any one of which practised three miles
from college would subject its perpetrator to fine and im-
prisonment ; and practised on the most defenceless, the
most inexperienced, the most timid of the academic com-
munity, and because they are defenceless, inexperienced,
and timid, not because they have raised a finger to pro-
voke a single insult or outrage.

And yet our colleges claim to surpass the community in
a high tone of feeling, — yet our students fill pages of a
magazine, and spout reams of verses about " generosity,"
'• kindliness," " the nobility of the student character," and
they leave their debating society, where these fine senti-
ments have been applauded to the echo, to indulge the
pleasures of a baby, after the manner of a New York fire-
man. And I put together the two pictures of English and
American students, and, with all my love for Harvard, my
heart sinks in despair.

And yet, not so ; for I do believe the time will come
when this shall be done away with ; * I believe there are to
be students of our colleges, who, when they have ended
their own course as freshmen, will begin a new era of
protection, of generosity, of friendship, to their successors.
If such there are, as I fervently trust there may be, within

* Mr. Everett lias all the better ground for this hope, that, a vast
improvement has taken place in this respect at the University
which he holds up as a model, within the last twenty years. We
remember the time when practical joking1 was carried to great
lengths at one or two of the smaller colleges, and even knew a
morbidly sensitive man who pined and died in consequence of the
treatment he received. — ED.

118 On the Cam.

the sound of my voice, let me urge them, as their sincere
friend, as the friend of our common college, as the friend
of our dear country, no longer, no longer to let the
students of an English University surpass them in manli-
ness, in generosity, in courage.*

But we have allowed our friends plenty of time to eat
their breakfast, and it is getting near ten. On ordinary
days, our friend would go to Lecture at this hour; but it
is Saturday, a fact sufficiently shown by the freshmen
being disengaged at nine, they having two hours' lecture,
from nine to eleven, five days in the week. So, his friends
slipping away one by one (but not before the large pewter
mug of ale, with its glass bottom, has gone round) he
secures another good pull at Plato, and then goes to his
private tutor in the next college, that of St. John's. You
have not missed much by not going into Lecture. It is
held in a large bare room, with benches, and long tables
covered with green baize. The students, in their gowns,
in numbers varying from fifteen to one hundred and fifty,
are seated ; and the lecturer stands behind a desk, whence
he discourses most abstrusely on some author, or branch
of mathematics. Freshmen are occasionally asked to
translate or demonstrate; the other years never. The
lectured may take notes, or not, if they like.

Our friend has by this time got to St. John's College.
He finds his tutor, a gentleman of about the age and
standing of his late whist-entertainer. He looks over and
corrects the verses of last night, and gives our friend a
model translation, either his own, or not, as the case may
be. The Plato is then gone over for the rest of the hour,
occasionally interspersed by general conversation. Eleven
o'clock strikes. Our friend rises to go. " Will you give
me another piece of composition, sir ?" " O, yes ; Greek
prose this time, isn't it?" "Yes, sir." Out comes a

* Some further discussion of this point will be found in the
Appendix.

On the Cam. 119

piece of Butler's analogy, enough to make one turn blue :
full of all sorts of technical metaphysical words. " There,
you'll find that very good to put into Aristotelian Greek."
Our friend takes it, quite as a matter of course, and off to
Trinity again ; he wants to consult a book in the college
library, — not that of the University, — and thither repairs.

This library is over the west end of the cloisters, in a
beautiful building, built by Sir Christopher "VVren, of
variegated red and yellow stone. The vestibule and stair-
case are full of choice inscriptions, &c. The library hall
itself is a fine room, well lighted, with high windows right
and left, book-cases up and down each side, and the floor
laid in black and white mosaic, wherein, by the way, the
chapel resembles it. At the south end is Thorwaldsen's
beautiful statue of Byron, which the dean and chapter
refused to admit into Westminster Abbey. Around in
the room are various curiosities connected with eminent
sons of Trinity, — Byron's first letter, Newton's telescope,
Person's Greek writings, and, most precious of all, Mil-
ton's original manuscripts of " Lycidas and Comus," and
the original draught for a tragedy on the subject of
" Paradise Lost/' There are also several fine busts, — of
Bentley, Barrow, Newton, Coke, and other great sons of
Cambridge. Here our student remains, keeping his cap
on, for the library is cold. His object is to consult some
old scholarship examination-papers, to see Avhat sort of
things he is likely to get in the grand trial next April. As
he expects to have something else to do this afternoon,
he concludes to make his daily visit to the Union now, so
he returns to his room, exchanges cap and gown for a
straw hat with a blue ribbon, and sallies out to his news-
papers.

The remaining hours pass glibly away in study, making
a few calls, <fec ; and two o'clock arrives. Farewell all
literary work, either for pleasure or profit. The hour for
exercise has come, and rare indeed is he who violates the
Cambridge tradition of two hours' exercise before dinner.

120 On the Cam.

So he turns out of Green Street into Trinity Street again,
past the grey front of Caius and the gate of Humility,
past St. Michael's and St. Mary's Churches, the Senate-
House and the Schools, and turns towards King's College,
where he will find a companion for a seven-mile walk or
more. As he enters the gate he stops, as he has stopped
a hundred times, to gaze on the glorious chapel. I am
willing that a thousand Oxford graduates should write
hooks to prove that King's College Chapel is all wrong —
that it extinguishes the Lamp of Truth (spelt with a big
T) — and that it looks like a dining-table turned upside
down. If so, all I can say is, " Malo errare cum Platone ;"
I'd rather be wrong with King's Chapel than right against
it. The Lamp of Truth deserves to be extinguished in
the blazing sunlight of beauty and grandeur, and a dining-
table turned upside down turns out a much handsomer
object than I had supposed. Still every visitor to Cam-
bridge stops astounded before this grand mass of masonry
that bears its heavy stone roof unshaken to the sky, and
uplifts its heaven-kissing pinnacles one hundred and fifty
feet. Still every child of Cambridge walks in delight before
its peerless beauty by day, and trembles in its awful shadow
at night, and still every traveller on the rising ground
for miles away, sees looming up before him, sparkling like
silver in the sunlight, the majestic proportions of the fairest
temple in England.

Our two friends have met. They walk briskly clown
Trumpington Street, past half-a-dozen colleges, Catharine
and Corpus and Pembroke and Peterhouse, past the Fitz-
william Museum and the Addenbrooke's Hospital, past old
Hobson's Conduit and the Botanic Garden, and out upon
the London road, — they leave it at the well-known corner,
turn through the Trumpington lanes and past Chaucer's
mill, and accomplish a good long round of over six miles
at least, in time for a stroll in the " backs" before dinner.
This name is applied to the walks along the river in the
rear of St. John's, Trinity, Clare, King's, and Queens'

On the Cam. 121

Colleges. There is nothing of the kind lovelier in England.
The velvet turf, — the ancestral elms and hoary lindens, —
the long vistas of the ancient avenues, — the quiet river, —
its shelving banks filled with loiterers,* its waters studded
with a scene of gay boats, and crossed by light, graceful
stone bridges ; the old halls of grey or red or yellow rising
here and there, — the windows peeping out from among the
trees, and the openings into the old court-yard with their
presage of monastic ease and learning, — the lofty pinnacles
of King's Chapel o'ertopping all ; — there is no such scene
of repose and of beauty in Oxford or any other place of
education. As our friends stroll about there, resting
from the lively discussion with which their walk has been
beguiled, new love for the home of their youth arises in
their hearts, and new vows are interchanged for its defence.
I do not believe a single student ever paced under these
ancient trees without some word of praise bursting from
liis lips for the beauty and glory of dear old Cambridge.
But the watches point to four, and the friends part, the
Kingsman to chapel, and our acquaintance to dinner, and
we wish him a good appetite and the first cut of the
mutton.

The lecturer forgot here that he had laid his scene in winter.

ED.

VI.

LIFE OF AN UNDERGRADUATE.—
EXCEPTIONAL.

Length of the College Course. — Vacation. — Taking the Degree. —
Discipline. — Sundays. — Clubs and Associations. — Cricket and
llowing. — Description of a Boat-Race. — Trinity Boat Song.

N my last lecture I put before you such a
picture as can be drawn in the space of an
hour, of the daily life of an undergraduate
at one of the principal colleges in Cam-
bridge University. In order, however, that
you should approximate to a correct idea of this part of my
subject, I must first offer an explanation of some techni-
calities occurring in the description, and secondly, call
your attention to some special scenes of student life, not
occurring in the course of every day routine.

And first : how long is this life led by the undergra-
duate ? The University year begins on the 1st of October,
with the first or Michaelmas term. This is said to divide
at noon of the 8th of November. This is of course merely
a nominal process. But instances have been known of in-
experienced youths ascending the Castle Hill to see the
term divide. The term ends on the 16th of December.
The second or Lent term begins on the 15th of January,
divides on the 14th of February, and ends on the 18th of
March. The third, or Easter term, begins on the 1st of

On the Cam. 123

April, divides on the 13th of May, and ends on the 24th
of June. The Commencement is on the 21st of June, and
all the year between the end of one term and the beginning
of the next is vacation. But the American and English
ideas of term and vacation by no means coincide. In the
first place, the University is going on more or less all the
time. The library is open, the museums and public
buildings may be inspected freely. Various important
religious and academic ceremonies are performed in vaca-
tion. In particular, if there is to be any scientific conven-
tion at Cambridge, or any installation of a Chancellor, —
always a very imposing ceremony, — the effort is generally
to have it in vacation, that the students being away, their
rooms may be used for the occupation of the honoured
guests. This is a curious phase in English University
life, resulting from the large part of the year in which
rooms are unoccupied. Whenever a stranger arrives to
receive the hospitality of Cambridge, the first effort of his
University friend is to get him a suite of rooms in college,
which the tutor has a right to let him have, in the absence
of the regular occupant, his prohibition to the contrary
notwithstanding.

Again, a great many of the most important examinations
are held in vacation. And this again is intentional, in
order that the young men may not be interrupted in their
regular courses of lectures, nor the examiners in the per-
formances of their other duties in college or University, by
having to attend an examination. And the result is very
pleasant. For hereby those are attracted to Cambridge,
at the time when others are absent, who have this one ob-
ject to pursue, and each is sure of seeing none but those
who are sympathizing to the full with his trials.

It might be then hard to say wherein consisted the dif-
ference between term and vacation. I presume if this
question were actually put to an official martinet at Cam-
bridge, he would be greatly scandalized, and reply with
some academic technicality, making the matter no clearer.

124 On the Cam.

But in general the distinction may be stated to be, that
the vacations are times when all college and university
lectures are intermitted. The regular college life, the hall,
and the chapel, go on the same, at least in the large col-
leges ; the students and officials come and go, and in the
winter vacations there is not much less liveliness in the
town. And this long period of nominal vacation, amount-
ing to nearly thirty weeks in the year, is practically even
longer. The University considers a term sufficiently kept,
as the term is, by two thirds residence, — the college pre-
scribe in what part of the term this two thirds is to be
taken, and how much more residence they will require of
their members for their own purposes of discipline. So
that, in fact, any undergraduate may comply with all the
requirements in the way of residence, and only be in Cam-
bridge twenty-two weeks in the whole year, or less. And
though the colleges may keep a member for purposes of
discipline from the first to the last day of term, nobody can
be compelled to remain a day in vacation.

But this is the minimum ; such an immense amount of
vacation is much more than any of the studious desire. In
fact, it would be impossible to get any adequate prepara-
tion, for the final examinations, in only twenty weeks of
study a year. Accordingly the hard students are exceed-
ingly apt to drop up* to Cambridge some days before their
attendance is required, and to stay after the rest have run
down. They have their rooms and meals ; their private
tutors are generally quite ready to begin with them ; they
are not required to attend lectures, or chapel ; and they
have that great promoter of success in study — quiet. The
summer vacation, in particular, which practically lasts from
the beginning of the second week in June to the middle of
October, is far too long for any one to pass in idleness. It
is habitually spent in two ways. One is, to make up a
reading party. A number of undergraduates, from four

* Authority for this phrase, Horace Walpole.

Gn the Cam. 125

to ten, engage some tutor, and, in some cases of very
large parties, two, who then pick out a pleasant, but not too
pleasant, place to pass the summer. Scotland, the Lake
District, Wales, the Southern Counties, Brittany, and the
Tyrol, are all favourite resorts for these reading parties.
Sometimes no tutor accompanies them ; but, in all cases,
their plan, I am bound to say, faithfully carried out by
almost all, is, to pass six or eight hours* of each day in
study, and the remainder in athletic pursuits. But a large
number prefer at once to make a fourth term out of the
long vacation. They return to Cambridge early in July,
and remain till the end of August, or the beginning of
September, reading for dear life with their private tutors.
There are such unnumbered facilities for study, and so little
for anything else, in the " Long," as it is called, that you
have to study hard to keep yourself from dying of ennui,
even though attempts are made at Shakespeare clubs, boat
and cricket matches, <fcc. In fact, it is so desirable a place
for a student in arrears, that the authorities at the larger
colleges are obliged to restrict the undergraduates from
residing in the long vacation, and make it a special privi-
lege, consequent on obtaining high rank in the examination
in May. Observe further, that the foundation scholars of
the college have a right to stay at Cambridge in vacation
as well as term time, and to demand rooms and meals, in
virtue of King Henry VIII. 's will.

Of these terms, be they longer or shorter, the University
requires nine to be kept, as the phrase is, before any one
can receive a degree, and if it is a degree in honours, the
candidate must have begun his residence in the tenth term
preceding the examination. And as we have so often
alluded to taking the degree, let us have an ocular demon-
stration of the process of taking a degree, — the operation
to which the thoughts of nearly every undergraduate are

* " Like seeks like;" Mr. Everett's friends must have been ex-
ceptionally industrious and self-denying. — ED.

126 On the Cam.

turned a thousand times in his career. Let us suppose,
then, that we have a friend whose name has been announced
as having successfully passed some examination, it makes
little difference which, in virtue whereof he is entitled to a
degree. The first thing you may be sure, considering the
scene is laid in a University, and that an English one, is
to pay, and pay well. The proctors, as representing the
University, receive a handsome sum from every expectant
bachelor for the University chest, as the treasury is called.
The college dues amount to about three pounds more. His
next business is to order the peculiar insignia of a Bachelor
of Arts, — the black gown with its ribbons dangling in
front, and the long black hood with its swan's-down trim-
ming. He will also add a clergyman's bands, as a ne-
cessary part of full academic costume, if he have not already
procured them for some other public occasion. The hood
he will throw on over his undergraduate's gown, — the
black gown he will intrust to his bedmaker, and so arrayed
will make his way to the Senate-House. The galleries
are filled with undergraduates, and the body of the hall
below by officials and spectators of all kinds, and by the
candidates themselves, often far exceeding a hundred in
number. As there is a good deal of waiting on all such
public occasions at Cambridge, the undergraduates in the
gallery proceed to amuse themselves by cheering. This,
as well as hissing, is commonly carried to a perfectly insane
extent, beyond all bounds of authority. Proceedings are
usually opened, as soon as the galleries are pretty well filled,
with, " Three cheers for the Queen," given vociferously.
Before any one can call anything else, somebody is observed
below who has not taken off his cap at the instant of entering.
" Cap, cap, cap, cap, cap,"* is at once the cry, and this is
kept up till it is taken off. " Three cheers for Lord
Derby ; " " Hurrah, hurrah," or rather " Hurray," the

* Invariably directed at proctors and fathers of college?, AV!JO are
obliged, ex officio, to remain covered. — ED.

On the Cam. 127

English form of a cheer. A few groans attempted by
some liberal, who further proceeds to " Three cheers for
Lord Palmerston ;" a few spirited cheers, and a good many
groans, which, however, are nothing to the bear-garden of
growls that replies to the call of " Three groans for John
Bright." Three cheers for something or other is drowned
in " Cap, cap, cap," " Hat, hat, hat." A pause, for an
instant, the individual summoned obstinately refusing to
remove his cap, when one of the proctors' attendants, whom
I have already introduced to you as bulldogs, appears
below. " Stuboy, Boning, row, row. Take his cap off;
bite him, Boning, — please remove your cap, sir," <kc.

" Three cheers for ," in a feeble voice. " What is it,

sir, speak up." " Three cheers for the Bishop of Oxford."
Violent acclamations. The chief church dignitary in the
Sandwich Islands having recently addressed a large meeting
in Cambridge, was once irreverently summoned with,
'• Three cheers for the Bishop of Hullabaloo." I once
heard the United States called for in the course of the last
three years, when it was drowned with laughter, and calls
of the " Disunited States ;" and a proposal of cheers for
the Confederates was received with equal derision.* A
few more persons, obnoxious or honoured, are clamoured
for, when a loud burst of cheering throughout the length
and breadth of the Senate-House, calls our attention to a
somewhat singular procession that is walking in. Most of
its members appear as ordinary Masters of Arts, in black
gowns with white and black hoods thrown over them, but
the procession is headed by one, who, in addition to this
garb, bears an enormous silver mace, looking very like a
gigantic poker, and so usually denominated.

* The real humourists amongst the undergraduates seldom take
part in these proceedings, and the jokes are terribly mild. The
best we ever heard was at Oxford, when everybody was bored to
death by a Latin address in honour of somebody or another: —
" That will do, sir, now construe," cried a voice from the gallery.
— Eo.

128 On the Cam.

Tlere are three of these mace-hearers, known as the
esquire bedells, who enclose a reverend-looking gentleman
in a scarlet gown and ermine tippet. This is the Vice-
Chancellor, the head of the University, and in all cases the
greatest man there, except when the Chancellor himself
takes it into his head, which is very seldom, to come down
and administer. The Vice-Chancellor is chosen from the
masters of the colleges annually, on the fifth of November,
and goes out of office on the fourth ; so that on the day
of election there is no one in office, — but tAvo proctors are
considered as equal to one Vice-Chancellor, and get to-
gether bodily into his chair to preside at his election. This,
as all other elections of University officers, is by the body
of the Masters and Doctors, called the Senate, — the gene-
ral affairs being managed by a smaller body called the
Council, who propose all measures to be acted upon by the
Senate, the enacting measure being called a Grace of the
Senate. The night of the Vice-Chancellor's election being
also the old day of the celebration of Gunpowder Plot, was
formerly celebrated at Cambridge by the town and gown
riots. I cannot say these are absolutely extinct. The
townspeople, who have nothing else to do, come out a good
deal. A certain number of students also come out and
walk up and down the streets, where passage is generally
freely conceded, though very opprobrious remarks are heard
right and left. I have tramped through a town and gown
row so called, and if I had desired a pugilistic encounter of
any kind, I should have had to seek it.

The Vice-Chancellor, by this time, has taken his seat
in the Senate-House. One of the esquire bedells has the
lists of candidates in his hand. The undergraduates are
ushered forward by some fellow of their college, who is
called "the father," and presents his " sons" in squads of
six or eight. If the Senior Wrangler or Senior Classic is
to take his degree, he is led up alone, by himself, amid
most vociferous cheering. What the students are supposed
to do when they are thus led up I don't know. The father

On the Cam. 129

says something in Latin, — I believe to the effect thru he
presents to the Vice-Chancellor this youth, whom he knows
as well in morals as in learning to be a proper person for
receiving the degree of B.A. Formerly, they were re-
quired to take the oaths of allegiance and supremacy.
They are then directed to one side, — and the real process
of conferring degrees begins. They take their station in
a long queue, and come up to the Vice-Chancellor one by
one, first laying down their caps on the floor, and then
kneeling on the floor themselves. They fold the palms of
their hands together, and the Vice-Chancellor takes them
between his, and pronounces a Latin formula, giving them
all the rights, privileges, (fee, pertaining to the degree of
bachelor of arts, " in the name of the Father and of the
Son and of the Holy Ghost," raising his cap before the
sacred names. They rise, turn away, and the operation is
complete. No part, no preacher's gown, no diploma. As
they go out, the bedmaker is in readiness to exchange the
undergraduate's for the bachelor's gown, and to appropriate
the former, in connection with a pound sterling.* " It's
the custom, sir. All the gentlemen does it, sir. It's the
bedmaker's perquisites, sir," is all the explanation I ever
heard to be given, — and this is about all the explanation
given for anything at Cambridge.

The age for taking the bachelor's degree is between
twenty-two and twenty-three. In giving the list of American
errors with reference to English Universities, I believe I
included the idea that the students were six or eight years
older than ours. As a point of fact, they are about two
years older. My own class at Harvard, of ninety members,
averaged exactly twenty-one years and six months of age

* Surely Mr. Everett was imposed upon ; many men keep their
old gowns, not in very good condition by that time, as mementos,
and we fancy that five shillings is the usual fee ; at any rate, cha-
ritable as he is in almost all respects, he is terribly hard on the
poor old bedmakers, who are not so black as they are painted. — ED.
K

130 On the Cam.

on graduation. I was twenty years old myself on the day
I entered Trinity, and I could find no one of my own year
in college that was not younger, and a great many in the
year above me were younger also. I ought, perhaps, to
have said something about the ceremony of entrance ; but
there is so little ceremony that I had forgotten it. The
college being selected, application is made to the tutor ; in
ft large college the particular tutor must be selected also.
He will formally receive the undergraduate, and receive
also a certain sum of money as matriculation fees, and
another larger called " caution money," deposited like our
bond, as a security for the payment of college dues, and
returned when all connection with the university ceases.
In some colleges there is an examination for admission, in
others not ; but whether there is or not, you begin residence
and attendance on lectures, &c. at once, and are told, not
if you have passed the examination, but if you have not.
Anyhow, you need not be troubled ; you can try two or
three times more before the year ends, and each time the
examination is easier. The fact is, at the small colleges
they are only too glad to get any undergraduates, and at
the large ones the college examinations will soon weed out
all the poor ones.

The means of discipline are elaborate and peculiar. A
certain amount of attendance at chapel and lecture is re-
quired ; and, if not complied with, a graduated series of
scoldings, rising from a simple printed notice, filled up
with a name, as follows : " Everett, Junior Soph., ir-
regular in his attendance at chapel, admonished by the
Junior Dean;" — I did get one such notice once, — up
through personal interviews with the Deans, Tutor, Master,
and Body of Fellows. By this time, an undergraduate so
persistently irregular will probably have brought matters
to a crisis by some other more flagrant act, and be obliged
to leave the college. Repeated absence from lecture is
generally punished by " gating," that is, confining a student
to the inside of the gate of his college, or street door of his

On the Cam. 131

lodging-house, at an earlier hour than usual. I have
mentioned that after ten the gates are locked, and no one
can get in without ringing. I should add that, once in,
no one can get out after ten, without a special order from
a Fellow. Furthermore, no undergraduate can pass a night
out of Cambridge or out of his own rooms without special
permission from his tutor ; and in all these cases the situa-
tion of the porter, bedmaker, or lodging-house keeper is
made much too valuable, and the watch kept upon them
much too strict, to permit more than a very rare infringe-
ment indeed of these rules. Any college windows that
may look on the street are barred in the two lower stories,
to prevent egress, and every college is surrounded with
high walls, ditches, or iron fences bristling with a most
dreadful array of spikes. I have often stood at some of
these and contemplated the possibility of getting out, and
have been forced to acknowledge that it is out of the
question.*

Pecuniary fines, of small amount, are also very much
resorted to ; they are, in most cases, rather matters of
course, than penalties, — such as for absence from morning
chapel, — and go to increase the pay of the servants. In
some cases, neglect, or infringement of discipline, is
punished by " losing the week ; " that is, if the student

* And yet a man of our year habitually committed this question-
able deed, and only tore his clothes on one occasion. He loosened
one of the bars of his window, which he could extract and replace
in its socket at will ; clambered over a chevaux defrise, and was
free, and he returned in like manner. One winter's afternoon we
called and found him gazing out with a melancholy and puzzled air.
It had been snowing, and the freshly-fallen snow would betray his
foot-prints. Presently he cried, " I have it !" took up a coal, and
threw it at the window, and then called his bedmaker, and bade
her fetch the glazier. The glazier came, and in mending the
broken pane, trampled down the snow outside, enabling the too
ardent lover of freedom to wander out without detection that night.
But he was exceptionally daring and inventive, and the whole
proceeding was a Jack Sheppard affair. — ED.

132 On the Cam.

has already resided seven weeks, some misdemeanour will
cause the seven to count only six, which would compel him
to stay at Cambridge another, to make up the requisite
number enjoined in the course of a term.

I have been thus minute on these matters of discipline,
not in the hope of making them very clear, for nothing
short of some weeks' residence there can effect that, but
to illustrate the grand principle, that college discipline
has nothing to do with college rank. I remember
one instance, which will show more than a hundred
systematic descriptions, where a young man was so no-
toriously irregular in his attendance at chapel, that the
whole body of his college were determined to send him
away for a term ; but, as he was expected to take very
high rank in an approaching examination, they allowed
him, in consideration of that, to remain till the examina-
tion was over, and then forced him to " go down," at
once.

Another point that may be interesting, is the variation
adopted in this undergraduate life on Sunday. Sunday is
very generally observed in England ; but it is beginning
to get somewhat the character which it has in France.
There are long, cheap, slow trains running on the railways,
which carry out the poorer classes of London, whose hands
have been thrilling and brows straining with hard work,
from Monday morning to Saturday night, and pour them
out over the fields, to get a little taste of pure breezes, and
expand the poor, pent-up, bruised mind in the light of
heaven, and the all-refreshing air of society and rest ; then
gather them up again at night, tired and happy. At
Cambridge, there is a great deal of church-going. All
the college chapels have two, and some three, services a
day; at' some there is a sermon, at others not. It is, of
course, at all of them the service of the Church of England.
The whole University is supposed to go at two o'clock to
the sermon in Great St. Mary's Church. It does not all
go by any means. The reverend Master of Trinity has a

On the Cam. 133

weakness for ordering such of his own subjects as he meets,
about the hour, to go. This service is peculiar in many
respects. The floor of the church, which, aside from its
being the church of the University, has its own parish, is
filled with graduates, the gallery with undergraduates. The
clerk of the church gives out a portion of Tate and Brady's
version of the Psalms ; this is sung by one of the college
choirs in attendance. This is followed by the preacher, who
is appointed for every Sunday and holyday at the beginning
of the year, and is always a man of note ; he rises and reads
the bidding pra3rer. This is not a prayer at all, but an ex-
hortation to pray for " the whole state of the Catholic
Church." From this pretty general exordium, it proceeds,
by virtue 'of a series of especiallys and particularlys, to com-
mend to the prayers of the congregation all the persons in
England in any way distinguished in the Church or the
State. Gradually working his way to the two Universities,
the clergyman continues : " And herein for his Grace,
William, Duke of Devonshire, our Chancellor; for the
Right Worshipful the Vice-Chancellor ; for the professors,
proctors, and all that bear authority therein. For all par-
ticular colleges, and, as in private duty bound, I ask your
prayers for the royal and religious foundation of Trinity
College ; for the reverend and learned the Master, the
fellows, scholars, and all students in the same," and so on ;
till, at last, a call to pray for all the Commons of the Realm,
and also to praise God for all His mercies, concludes this
long introduction, to which is simply added the words of
the Lord's Prayer ; and at once every University man in
the congregation, who are all standing, raises his cap to his
face, which is a sight described as very imposing ; who-
ever saw it must have neglected to raise his own cap, in
order to notice those of others. The sermon, and the
ordinary concluding prayer of the English Church follow,
the sermon being always intensely learned, rather than
interesting.

Sunday is a great day at Cambridge for very long walks,

134 On the Cam.

often of three or four hours' duration. The boating men
in particular, who are steadily engaged on the river every
other day, vary .their exercise always by a hard walk on
Sunday. On Sunday afternoon and evening, if it is fine,
the whole town, University or not, turns out into the walks
behind the Colleges, making a very gay sight. Sunday is
also a great day for early and long-protracted tea-parties
and social talks. I was once asked if the young men were
as ready to talk theology at an English as an American
University. Of ecclesiastical talk, the management of
religious communities, the temporal state of the English
and other churches, <fcc, there is a great deal; but theology
proper, all doctrinal discussions, they are very shy of. In
fact, a Dissenter, a person not of the Church of England,
they wouldn't dare to argue with, and they couldn't with
any one else.

Another subject which is intimately connected with the
life of the young men at Cambridge is the clubs and as-
sociations that they form for all manner of purposes. These
are very numerous. That kind, however, which is most
common in America, namely debating and library societies,
is very little seen in Cambridge. There is the general
Union Society for the whole University. There are also
one or two minor societies for literary purposes ; but they
are either confined to a very small set, or only brought
into a temporary life by a few stronger spirits. Neither
debating nor reading essays are English characteristics.

There are also various scientific societies, some entirely
confined to the undergraduates, others patronized and
strengthened by the presence of the older men in authority.
There was an entomological society that used to scour the
plains and downs near Cambridge to make " captures," as
they said. You generally knew the rooms of its members
by a strong smell of laurel-water, ether, or sulphur, used
to kill the unfortunate insects.

There were a great many religious societies for mission
work of all kinds in the Church of England. Shortly be-

On the Cam. 135

fore I left Cambridge, there was a terrible squabble at the
Union, because a member of one of the High Church
Societies had made extensive use of the Union writing-
paper and its letter-carrier to send out circulars of his
own club, contrary, as might be supposed, to the standing
orders of the Union. It was furiously discussed, and all the
High Church members of the Union voted for doing nothing
to him, while all the Broad, Low, or No Church members
wished him suspended from the club till he apologized, as
was done. A great deal of very efficient work is done
among the young men in collecting subscriptions for re-
ligious and charitable objects throughout the country.

There are several musical societies in Cambridge, with
extensive ramifications amoug the town's-people. England
is becoming more and more of a musical country every
day, the works of Handel and Mendelssohn in particular
being very much studied. The musical element was en-
tirely too strong for me. My first set of rooms had a piano
adjoining, in fact against the wall, and my second had a
cornet underneath, and several other instruments at hand.
At present, the generosity and tolerance I feel to persons
of all other tastes than my own entirely vanish in the case
of college musicians. The charms which soothe the savage
breast split the studious brain.

There is at Cambridge a small, and pretty select society
called the Athenaeum, and modelled on the London clubs.
That is, it takes in all the principal periodicals, has a good
library for popular use, and is a grand centre for social
gatherings of all kinds. It is in fact the head-quarters of
the aristocratic, or, as truth compels it to be called, the fast
element. It is pretty exclusive in its elections, and also
pretty expensive. Its character varies from year to year, ac-
cording as those who are admitted as a matter of course — all
members of noble families, for instance — are men of refined
tastes or the reverse. At the time I entered, there was
just passing away a generation of members who would be
an honour to any community, and had raised the club very

136 On the Cam.

high in the estimation of the rest of the University. Before
I left, a great many very desirable members had refused to
join it, on account of the tastes and habits of many of those
already belonging to it.

The Athenaeum has under its wing two or three other
societies of kindred character. One, the Amateur Dramatic
Club, or A. D. C. as it is commonly called, gives excellent
stage performances, open to all the University, for a few
nights in every term. It is fortunate in possessing some
members of very superior dramatic talent, who, though they
have long ceased to be members of the University, make a
point of coming back to Cambridge to act, and to assist in
developing the rising dramatic talent. The acting is
generally extremely good, and the society an agreeable
one.

There are also several dining clubs, more or less com-
posed of members of the Athenaeum. Two of them, the
True Blue and the Beefsteak, are of extreme antiquity, —
the True Blue members still dine in the dress of the last
century. The Beefsteak is governed by certain rules,
doubtless established to check the profuse banquets and
inordinate drinking of a hundred years ago, — viz. that
there shall be no food on the table but beef in various forms,
and that every member must drink a bottle of port. These
rules, like the resolutions which Mr. Ticknor's admirable
biography records in the college life of Mr. Prescott, have
become an encouragement to the excess they sought to
check.

Of all these societies the Athenaeum is the only one that
can exercise anything like influence. A man may get
some notoriety in the Union, — but as anybody can belong
to it, he can obtain no peculiar influence there on outsiders.
In fact, most students at Cambridge fall at once into some
line or other, either that of study, or athletics, or pleasure,
and are then chosen into aertain clubs as matters of course.
It is only in those very rare cases of persons who take up
two or more occupations, that the societies can be said to

On the Cam. 137

exert influence outside themselves. The true type of a
Cambridge club is one where a certain body of students,
interested in one object, unite to carry out that object, and
are ready to admit anybody who cares for it too, and want
nobody who does not. And the perfect example of these
is in the clubs for athletic sports, and chiefly for cricket
and rowing.

If any one is interested to see what a nation can do as
a nation, without any help from another, let him look at
the game of cricket as played in England. I can no more
undertake to give an account of it here, than I can of the
House of Commons, or the Court of King's Bench. One
might devote a course of Lowell Lectures to it, or write a

O

college text-book about it. But I will say to you as
Victor Cousin did to his class about the Buddhists, — " I
do not speak of the Buddhists, gentlemen, because I know
nothing of them." I know nothing of cricket. I used to
see my friends, wearing caps and sleeves of all imaginable
patterns, and was told that they were the badges of the
"Perambulators" or " Quidnuncs." I saw them start at
unearthly hours in the morning, dressed principally in
flannel, and come back pretty late in the afternoon, and
hear that the Pifflers had been playing Koyston. I have
moreover been to one or two cricket-matches, and seen
some splendid catches at long -off. But of the mysteries
of cricket and cricket clubs I know very little. They are
very numerous ; cricket players associating together for all
possible and impossible reasons, and the best players
belonging to several clubs at once. They are working hard
all summer long, and rather tire one with their utter
absorption in their favourite sport, which to an outsider is
truly unintelligible. But it only lasts a few months in the
year, and the rest of the time they can talk and act
rationally.

Eowing is also carried at Cambridge to great perfection.
It is a natural offshoot from the maritime character of the
English. The best amateur rowing is at the two Univer-

138 On the Cam.

sities, and their annual match in April, in which I regret
to say Oxford has now won three years successively,* is a
splendid exhibition of river rowing, and pretty rough rowing,
too. But as eyewitness is always better than description,
I will ask you to walk down with me to the last boat-race
of the season at Cambridge, and contemplate what is perhaps
the noblest of athletic sports in its highest perfection.

The principal University boat-races at Cambridge take
place in the month of May, and surely if the Argonauts
themselves were to select a time and place for the display
of their strength, they could not choose better than the
Cambridge May term. Mr. Warren Burton says that the
wit of his district school described the fun of the winter
school term as one long Thanksgiving Day, minus the
sermon, the music and the dinner. One might describe
the Cambridge May term as one long Class Day, minus
the literary exercises, the dancing and the cheering. An
army of Amazons take Cambridge by storm in the month
of May, and grey old Alma Mater puts on her best dress,
and sets her best parlour in order to receive her guests.
But of all the attractions of that happy season, there is
none more universally appreciated than the boat-races.
We will suppose ourselves walking down to the last-one of
the season, f

It begins at seven o'clock, just in the calm, clear.
English twilight. We need not fear that it is too soon
after dinner, for the authorities fully respect the value of
exercise, • and accommodate the boat-races by instituting
an early dinner at two o'clock at this season. We put on
our checkered straw hats with their dark-blue ribbons, to
show that we belong to the First Trinity Boat-Club, stroll
out of the great gate, past the church where is the monu-
ment of poor Kirke White, erected by our late distinguished

* Xow, alas, five! (1865).

-f- All Cambridge men will recognize the following as a fancy
picture, combined from the history of many boat-races.

On the Cam. 139

countryman Dr. Boott, past the gate of St. John's and the
Templars' round church, and through a few narrow lanes
to a broad common, the pasture-ground of a hundred
broken-down horses. Our path has been accompanied by
crowds of men- in boating rig, broad flannel trousers, heavy
tanned leather low-heeled shoes, pea-jackets, and club-
hats or caps, making eagerly for the boat-houses. These
soon heave in sight on the farther bank of the poor little
narrow river. All along the strand below them are the
long, narrow, sharp club-boats, of which a new one is
manned every instant. From the windows of the rooms
occupied by the St. John's boat-club we can see the red
flag waving, emblazoned with the arms of the Lady Mar-
garet Somerset, foundress of St. John's and Christ's Col-
leges. This flag being displayed shows that St. John's is
at present head of the river. We stroll along the banks,
now muddy and now sandy, watching the coal-barges
trailing slowly up from Lynn and Wisbeach, and the light
club-boats, bearing down crews of inferior oarsmen to
witness the contests of the champions, and darting between
the barges like flies in a cow-pasture. We are in plenty
of time, for the grey old church of Chesterton, across the
water, is ringing out a quarter to seven in its sweet chimes.
But what is this that encounters us, breaking in rudely on
all the pastoral and soothing thoughts of chimes and evening
and what not ? A boy, or a monkey ? A boy, and a very
dirty one, with a broom still dirtier than himself. With
this he assiduously sweeps the coal-dust and mud left by
the colliers right under our feet, and then calls upon us in
an uncommonly cheerful voice, to " Give me a copper, sir,
just one, sir, I've got no father, sir." Spurning him, his
broom, and the ashes of his father, we press on, our path
every moment getting more and more crowded with eager
spectators. We soon arrive at a ferry, where are three or
four very dingy craft, soliciting passengers, but getting
none. No, we will wait till the regular boatman comes
back from his last load, with his clean blue boat, and his

140 On the Cam.

hat showing the ribbon of the head of the river. He is at
once saluted as " Charon" by a dozen voices, and imploring
us to " step steady, gentlemen," soon punts us over on the
verge of foundering. A few moments more, and we are
at the railway bridge. Here all spectators who have come
down in boats disembark, and leave their boats to walk on
to the racing ground.

This extends for about a mile and three-quarters from
the railway bridge. In the great University races the
boats take their stations at the farther end of it and row
up towards Cambridge, ending at the railway bridge. The
river turns and winds a good deal in this distance, giving
scope for the most careful steering, as it is scarcely ever
over twenty yards wide. At about the middle of the course
is the Plough Inn, which can be reached by a very pretty
drive, and is generally the rendezvous of those who do not
like the idea of a run on the bank. We ourselves are on
the towing-path the other side from the Plough. Just
watch the crowd on the bank, oarsmen in their club flannels,
Athena3um men with their faultless London garments,
tutors and proctors in their clerical garb, and some very
hard student, a prospective senior wrangler, who has acci-
dentally come down for an evening stroll, and looks round
bewildered, for he never heard of a boat-race, and can't
conceive why he never met such a crowd here before.
There — you can see the racing boats begin to come up the
river, — not the best, however, — those before us will take
their places at the end of the division. Each boat will row
down to nearly the end, then turn so as to bring up against
its proper post, with its head up the river. There it will
be moored, and the crew step out. This is soon made
apparent, as we see walking up to us the crews of the boats
that just shot past us. There, — men are beginning to gaze
eagerly on that next boat, — as the dark-blue uniform
flashes into sight, "First Trinity Second" is the cry from
the bank. There are three clubs in Trinity, of which the
first is the largest, and it generally can muster three boats

On the Cam. 141

among the first twenty. At present, its second boat stands
ninth on the river. You will understand that all members
of the college, irrespective of seniority, join the boat-clubs ;
the control and management being in the hands of the
older members. These are very assiduous in practising
the Freshmen and new-comers generally, and selecting the
good oarsmen from them for the high boats. First Trinity
Second has passed, and next is a curious uniform of grey
and blue, which proclaims it to be Christ's. The next is
the maroon-colour of Corpus, the next the rich rose-colour
of Emmanuel, and the next the royal purple of Caius.

As fast as each boat turns, rows up to its post and stops,
it is surrounded by a crowd of admirers from its own college,
and some sarcastic outsiders, who exchange remarks of all
kinds with each other on the event, and countless bets are
made. The crews begin to feel cold, and start on a stroll, —
gradually the crowds melt together, and the whole bank be-
comes alive with a thousand University men of every type
of face, mind, and particularly costume.

Hush ! there is a boat sweeping down, evidently far
better than any that have gone before it. Its oarsmen
wear black hats, with a black and white ribbon round them.
They are a wiry, vicious-looking lot, and though a series
of misfortunes has brought them down to fourth, yet no
one dares speak slightingly of Trinity Hall. They soon
attract a great crowd, for Trinity Hall, besides its own
peculiar fame, is the champion in general of the smaller
colleges. But still greater excitement is manifested, as a
plain grey uniform comes into view, and all eyes are turned
to watch the most noted club of the University. It is Third
Trinity, composed exclusively of members of Trinity Col-
lege, who have previously been at Eton or Westminster
schools, which, being situated on the Thames, are far
ahead of all other schools in rowing. And now the tale of
boats is nearly complete. The dark blue of First Trinity
swings into the second place, and just as its adherents are
eagerly pressing the question, — " Shall you do it ?"' " 0,

142 On the Cam.

shall you do it ?" some one else shouts, " There they are, —
there's the pigs." This coarse, but well-known name, calls
all eyes to the St. John's oarsmen, in their scarlet uniform,
proudly rowing to the first place. Night after night
have they haffled Trinity in all attempts to bump them,
and assume the head place. You will understand,
that the Cam being wholly too narrow to permit of rowing
abreast, it is the practice in all great races to draw the
boats up in a line, with a boat's length between each, and
the object is then to row over the distance so as to touch
the stern of the first with the bo\v of the second boat. If
this is effected, the first changes places with the second in
the next race, or is dropped altogether, according to the
terms of the match. Notice in many of the other boats
oarsmen with the sky-blue caps, that marks a University
oarsman, one who has been chosen to row against Oxford ;
but not in the Trinity boat. They have University oars,
more than one, but not to-night. No ; to-night all shall
wear the dark-blue alike, for the honour of their dear old
college. The St. John's men, who have at last won the
head place, and held it triumphantly night after night, shall
they be defrauded of the laurel on their very brows, and in
one night be condemned to hold the second place for a
whole year ? Ah, but the Trinity men have been working
together night after night ; every race has put new vigour
and unity into their stroke. Steadily have they worked up
above all other rivals, and last night they pursued the
Johnians, pressing hard up to the course's end. Well did
Virgil know — and what did he not know — the passions
that stir in the breasts of oarsmen, —

" These burn with shame to lose their hard-earned crown,
And life would freely barter for renown,
But those, with rising hope, their triumphs scan,
For they can conquer who believe they can."*

* Shade of Dryden ! Forgive your humblest admirer for joining
three feeble lines to one of your matchless verses !

On the Cam. 143

Such are the contending thoughts in the minds of the
countless admirers of either side that are strolling up and
down the banks ; when, suddenly, they are recalled to their
senses by a sudden bang. The first gun ; and the crews
all make rapidly to their boats, and begin to embark.
Eagerly the coxswain looks over his crew. " Now, then,
who's number 4 ? 0, Wright ; well, where is he ? Here,
Wright, Wright. He'll be late, to a dead certainty."
No ; there comes that hard, compact figure, and that
generous face breaking through the crowd of grey jackets,
for he has been exchanging a last defiance with the crew of
the Third Trinity, who are insinuating, audacious mortals,
that not only will First not catch John's, but will get
bumped themselves. " Now then, 4, get in. Are you all
ready ?" " No, no, not yet ; my stretcher's wrong."
The dark-blue jackets are torn off, and thrown to the men
on shore. " Now ; Sturge times us, doesn't he ?" " Ay,
all right ; " and you see by every boat some sympathizing
friend with a stop-watch. Bang ! the second gun. The
last arrangements are hurriedly made. All along the
banks eager partisans are just ready to begin their race
with their favourite. " Push out," is the cry ; and slowly,
steadily, the oars are raised, and the boat gently feuded off.
" Quarter of a minute gone ;" and all down the bank comes
up the refrain from every boat, — " Quarter gone." The
last settlement in the seats, the last jacket pitched ashore,
the last firm grasp of the oar, never to be let go. " Half
a minute gone ;" now the boats are all in the middle of
the stream. " Back a stroke, 2 ; easy backing ; pull, bow
and 3 ;" for the oars are numbered, beginning at the bow ;
not, as with us, at the stroke. " Fifteen seconds left."
All eyes along the bank are fixed on the watchmen, as their
timing now comes more frequently. " Ten, nine, eight,
seven, six, five, four, three, two, one, — gun,"— bang ! —
splash. " Well started, well started," cry the partisans on
the bank. " Well rowed, well rowed ;" for First Trinity has
leapt ahead with a bound, as if she were on wings ; and all

144 On the Cam.

the hopes of Third Trinity to bump her, with that headlong
spurt so characteristic of Etonians, is nipped in the bud.
" Well rowed, Trinity ; well rowed, John's. !NTow then,
take her along." See the headlong rush upon the bank.
A thousand men, in every sort of dress or undress, tearing
along at the rate of a mile in three minutes ; now stumbling
and falling, now shouting and pushing, now silent, with
their lips burning, and their eyes starting, but all on fire
with excitement. There, that fat little tutor is knocked
down, and his pupils rush over him, all but trampling him
to death ; but never stop for anything like that. There a
crowd have stopped to congratulate Emmanuel, Avhich has
succeeded in bumping Caius. Victors and vanquisher
haul off to the side and let the hind boats come up. Far
down you see evidences of other bumps ; all of which attract
weary admirers, thankful to get a respite from running.
But still, all the real interest is with the head boats. As
the tortuous track winds by Grassy Corner, a broad green
peninsula, covered with spectators, the excitement is fearful.
" "Well rowed, well rowed, Trinity. Well rowed, 4," as
Wright's broad back comes leaping forward and springing
back, like a three-ton trip hammer. " Well steered ; 0,
well steered, Trinity," as the little spectacled coxswain,
well known all over England, swings up his boat close to
the corner, gaining several feet at once. " Well rowed,
well rowed ; half a length more." " You're safe, John's,
you're safe ; they'll never do it." There, the Plough Inn
is coming in sight ; pass that corner, and it's ah1 a straight
reach, — no more room for picking up there ; no more fine
steering. But see, the Trinity stroke bounds forward with an
effort to which all his former exertions were child's play; and
the dark -blue oars leap in their sockets till their blades seem
like a single broad flash of light along the gunwale, and the
shout rings like a volley of musketry ; — " Well rowed, well
rowed, Trinity ;" and, as they swirl round Ditton Corner,
once more that deft pull on the strings, and the sharp bow
comes flashing up into the stern of the Johnians ; and, like

On the Cam. 145

a peal of thunder, bursts forth the thrice re-echoing,
" Hurrah for First ; well rowed, First, well rowed."
" Quick ; here, bring the flag." The grand old standard,
the Golden Lion with his three crowns on the dark-blue
field, is raised by the coxswain ; and, as the boats row
home in the thickening twilight, it will trail from their
stern along the dark green waters, and wave triumphantly
from their boat-house window. Loud and deep is the
rejoicing among the sons of Trinity, as they walk back to
their dear old halls ; hearty their praises of the valiant
oarsmen that have worked so long and so well ; and espe-
cially their choicest encomiums will rest on the stroke, an
American, — God bless him, — and a scion of the old Gar-
diner stock on the Kennebec. And in their loud rejoicings
to-night, at supper, their songs will swell in praise of
Trinity in strains not unlike those which follow : —

BOAT-SONG FOR TRINITY.

Raise the shout of glory !
Tell once more the story
How her forehead hoary

Shines with laurels new.
From the banks rebounding,
Every foe confounding,
Peals the triumph, sounding

O'er the royal blue.

Long the insulting foemen,
Like the haughty Roman,
Dared our valiant yeomen,

Sneering, to the fight.
But in vain they vaunted,
Not a moment daunted,
All on fire we panted

For the latest night.

" Now each eye be steadv,
Every oar be ready,

146 On the Cam.

We shall triumph," said he, —

He our leader true.
Then, the last shot parting,
With one impulse starting,
Like an arrow darting
From the bow, we flew.

Every glad shout feeling,
From our comrades pealing,
All our sinews stealing,

Surged our heart's best blood.
While the rhythmic chiming
Of our tough oars rhyming
To the steersman's timing,

Swept along the flood.

Hark ! the shout rings clearer
From each hearty cheerer,
Nearer fast and nearer

Our brave craft doth go.
Then, together dashing,
All our oar-blades flashing,
Like an earthquake crashing

Burst we on the foe.

See, ye brave who man her,
See, ye hosts that scan her,
How her ancient banner

Far resplendent streams, —
* Where the haughty scion
Of King Edward's lion,
Glorious like Orion,
Trebly crowned gleams.

Raise the shout of glory !
Tell once more the story,
How the mother hoary

Hails each victor son.
Peals of joy attend her,
Stalwart arms defend her,
Loyal hearts befriend her,

Trinity has won !

VII.
SURVEY OF THE DIFFERENT COLLEGES.

St. John's. — Magdalene. — Sidney Sussex. — Jesus. — Christ's. —

Emmanuel. — Downing. — St. Peters. — Pembroke. — Queens'.

St. Catherine's. — Corpus Christi. — King's. — Clare. — Trinity
Hall. — Caius.

N my last two lectures I introduced you to
the life of an undergraduate of Trinity Col-
lege, both as it exists every day, and with
certain exceptional scenes. This pre-emi-
nence may be fairly accorded to Trinity, as
being the largest, the richest, and the most versatile of all
the colleges. Every one is partial to his own, out of a great
many; but no one can have lived long at Cambridge
without noticing not only that Trinity has the pre-eminence
in the points just mentioned, but also that the public favour
has been steadily setting to it for many years above the
other colleges. It numbers at present over five hundred
undergraduates, more than double the number of St. John's,
which is the next largest. It would be, however, very un-
fair to represent Cambridge without taking any account of
the other colleges whose members together constitute at
least two thirds of all the University, and have each and
all of them its own share in moulding the University to its
present form and so retaining it.

It is impossible to give any general rules why a student
coming to Cambridge selects one college more than another.

148 On the Cam.

If the two largest did not either of them please him, with
all their manifold advantages, one would think that among
the five or six of the richest and most favoured he must
surely find the right one. And yet you see every year,
men of all possible powers and tastes, turning up at one or
other of the smaller colleges, entirely happy there, as eager
for the honour of their dear little hermitage as all the
Trinity men and Johnians for their great barracks, and
you labour in vain to discover why they selected as it were
this country town rather than either of the great metropoles
of learning. In some it is family association, in some an
old friendship with one of the authorities, in some a pre-
ference for the peculiar hours and accommodations. There
were formerly — they are breaking it up very fast now — at
different colleges rich scholarships and funds limited to
young men from particular schools. For instance, Wake-
field, in Yorkshire, a large, dingy manufacturing town,
wholly given to its country staples, has an ordinary gram-
mar-school, where there are not a great many of the
farmers' and mill-owners' sons who care to pursue high
classical or mathematical study. Now Clare College, at
Cambridge, has three or four rich exhibitions, as they are
called, for students from Wakefield school. Consequently,
every year, the three or four rough, stalwart young York-
shire formers and manufacturers, who have been willing to
apply their canniness to collegiate studies, walk up to
Clare College, one of the most elegant and exclusive of all
at Cambridge.

I propose to take an hour's walk with you to-night
round the various halls and colleges of Cambridge, spending
a few minutes at each to study their peculiarities. We
will start from the great gate of Trinity. Turning up
Trinity Street, and passing the end of Trinity College
Chapel, we find Trinity Street becoming St. John's
Street, which shows us that the rich antique gateway in
red and white brick before which we stand is that of

On the Cam. 149

St. John's College. It presents three courts extending
in a straight line up to the very bank of the river. They
are all plain, but the second, a piece of red brick Tudor
architecture, with high gables all round, is remarkably
neat, compact, and homelike. The general plan of all
the colleges is much the same. In the first court you
find lecture-rooms, a chapel, and a Master's Lodge.
At the side opposite the gateway you pass into the
second court through an archway which has on one side
the door of the dining-hall, and on the other the passage
to the kitchens and butteries. Further on will be the
library. These are not invariably the relative situations,
but more common than any other.

After passing through the three older courts of St. John's,
we come suddenly out on a very pretty covered Gothic
bridge, spanning the river between the third and fourth
courts. To look out from the airy and elegant mullioned
windows down the river, with the buildings coming down
close to the water, in their rich red and yellow, and the
heavy black silent barges forcing their way slowly up,
gives a silent picture of a perfectly Venetian character ;
while looking up the river, there is a view of some of the
rooms in Trinity, their windows just peeping out of clusters
of ivy, and all along the banks smooth lawns shelving to
the water under venerable trees, and the grey old bridge
of St. John's, all telling you you are in dear domestic
England. The new bridge is poetically called by its
owners the Bridge of Sighs. But the profane, remem-
bering the term pigs so commonly applied to Johnians,
have denominated it the Isthmus of Suez. So when the
Johnians ordered a new organ, a great local wit called it
" Bacon's Novum Organon." The fourth, or new court
of St. John's, is a magnificent structure, or rather half a
structure. It is said that the architect, a very zealous
reviver of the Gothic style, on seeing an undergraduate
in the court shut his window on a very cold day, rushed

150 On the Cam.

up to his room, and begged him never to shut both halves
of his window, because the true effect of the building de-
pended upon one half being open.

St. John's is the great mathematical college. It has
always sent out more senior and other high wranglers
than any other. Not that it has failed to educate fine
classical scholars also, but the very decided preference is
for mathematics. It is also the great Tory college, and
can always produce a high conservative candidate at all
elections to oppose the liberal candidate from Trinity or
some other college.

Let us walk out into the beautiful grounds of the college
and look at the new court from them. Its proportions
are truly noble, but may be best observed from the bridge
of Trinity. It is said that an undergraduate of St. John's
was once lounging on Trinity bridge just before dinner,
when the reverend and learned the Master was returning
from his daily canter. He rode up to the youth with the
remark, " Sir, this is a place of transit and not of lounge."
No attention was paid to this, and the remark was re-
peated with yet more force. " Sir, are you aware what
the bridge of Trinity College is made for?" "Yes, sir,
to see St. John's new buildings from." And the Master
rode on to dinner.

Passing out of St. John's College grounds we come
through a handsome iron gate upon the road leading
back of the college. \Ve see before us the racket courts,
built by subscription in the college we have just quitted.
This fine sport, giving excellent training for e}-e and
hand, and hard work for every muscle, is greatly esteemed
at English schools and colleges. Beyond it is the
cricket ground for Trinity. Passing up the road to the
northward, we see on the right a very quaint old building
already alluded to, now occupied as a farm-house. It is
of the Norman period, and known as the School of Py-
thagoras. The ground around it belongs, curiously
enough, to one of the colleges at Oxford. A tortuous

On the Cam. 151

street leads us into one of the great arteries of the town,
the high road coming from Huntingdon on the west, and
Ely on the north, and turning down it in an easterly
direction we soon come to Magdalene College.*

This college is small, and of no very great interest.
It was founded by Lord Audley, one of Henry VIII.'s
magnates. He was also the founder of Audley End, a
magnificent mansion in Essex, now owned by a de-
scendant of the proud baronial family of Neville, and the
well-known parliamentary house of Grenville. To this
seat of Audley End, Lord Audley attached the master-
ship of Magdalene. So that whoever owns Audley End,
by descent or purchase of any kind, owns also the right
to appoint the head of Magdalene College. It is of
course generally given to some Kev. Mr. Neville or
other.

Magdalene possesses one invaluable treasure, the library
and manuscripts of the celebrated Samuel Pepys, Secre-
tary of the Admiralty to the last Stuart kings, and author
of the well-known Diary. This beautiful collection is
preserved with considerable jealousy, but is always ac-
cessible to proper persons desirous of consulting it. There
is little remarkable about the Magdalene buildings. The
college is small and not wealthy. It has of late had one
or two distinguished scholars ; but it is famous for a
luxurious table, and very lax discipline. So that it is a
favourite home for young men who are of the opinion,
either from conjecture or experience, that other colleges
are too strict for them.

Continuing past the front of Magdalene, we soon re-
cross the river by an ugly iron bridge in the busiest part
of the town, where coal-barges deposit their loads. We

* In Nichols' " Progresses," p. 45, it is stated that Magdalene
College is called Maudlin after its founder, thus M — Audley — n.
But if this is the case, why is Magdalene College, Oxford, also
called Maudlin ? — ED.

152 On the Cam.

pass the fronts of St. Clement's and St. Sepulchre's
Churches, and shortly after arrive at Jesus Lane. In
the corner which it forms with the street in which we
have been walking stands Sidney Sussex College. It
consists of two courts in a combination of the Elizabethan
and Renaissance styles of architecture, having no buildings,
but instead, a high wall on the side towards the street.
There is nothing peculiar or interesting about it, except
an original portrait of Oliver Cromwell, and the gardens,
which are laid out with unusual taste and skill.

We accordingly leave Sidney on our right, and turning
down Jesus Lane, pass a perfect nest of small houses, all
let in rooms to undergraduates, mostly Trinity men. I
should have said that at the large colleges, especially
Trinity, the number of resident students is much larger
than that of the rooms, and, therefore, at least half live
out of the college buildings, while all the really first-rate
sets of rooms are appropriated to the authorities, who, in-
stead of being interspersed among the students as police-
men, generally congregate together in the best quarters,
and leave the undergraduates to themselves. In the
smaller colleges, on the other hand, any undergraduate
can get an excellent set of rooms. It will be understood
that every undergraduate, however limited his means, has
two rooms to himself, and that the system of chums is
unknown.

We leave this h'ttle colony of Trinitarians, and pass the
opening of Park Street, wherein are the rooms of the
A. D. C, or Acting Club, and soon there rises on the
right the long garden wall of Jesus College. A broad
bricked walk leads us from the street to its massive stone
gateway. It is one of the most interesting and beautiful
colleges in Cambridge. There is a single little court
entirely surrounded by cloisters, the only complete one
in the University. From this extend lines of buildings,
open on every side to the free air coming across gay
gardens and broad meadows. The chapel is of church-

On the Cam. 153

like proportions, and is considered, next to that of King's,
the most beautiful in Cambridge. Gregorian chants are
introduced into the service there, which are considered to
belong peculiarly to the High Church ritual, and indeed
the whole college is given to the study of Divinity of the
most Anglican, or even Anglo-Catholic kind. Jesus Col-
lege is founded on the site of an ancient nunnery, and
most romantic stories are told of the fair nuns who once
were sheltered there. The monastic vows of damsels
could not long remain in force while a flourishing Uni-
versity of young men was growing up all around them.
And the students of Cambridge having gained entire
possession of the hearts of the nuns of St. Ehadegund,
it was determined to give them possession of their house
also, and the ruined nunnery became Jesus College.

Passing on from Jesus we turn to the right and cross
a broad open plot of ground, surrounded by handsome
houses. It is called Christ's Piece, and a few steps
farther brings us to Christ's College. This college was
founded by the Lady Margaret Somerset, Countess of
Richmond and Derby. She also founded St. John's
College, in whose boat-club her name is perpetuated, as
well as in two professorships. She seems to have been a
most benevolent and honoured personage in the latter part
of the fifteenth century, though her position was some-
what singular. Her son, Henry Earl of Richmond,
claimed a right to the throne, derived through her, and
actually became King Henry VII. more than twenty
years before the death of the mother by whom he claimed.
We pass through the ancient gateway of Christ's College
into a very airy and bright but irregular court-yard,
thence into a second open space, called the second court,
but of a very park-like character, with only one elegant
row of Palladian buildings. At an archway barred by a
gate we stop, ringing a large bell, and admiring the arms
of Lady Margaret, the old lilies and lions, over the grating.
A venerable gardener soon answers the summons, and as

154 On the Cam.

he knows me of old, lets me walk in without a question.
We are now in the fellows' garden of Christ's College.
These fellows, shrewd men, among their other advantages,
manage to secure a fine piece of ground to themselves,
within the college precincts, where they have a nice gar-
den to stroll in after dinner. Generally these gardens are
not accessible to the public except when thrown open on
great occasions, but Christ's always is. We compliment
the old gardener on his velvet turf and hoary walnuts and
elms, but we do not stop for them. Xeither do we linger
long in the pretty summer-house, embowered in trees, with
the alcove behind it, and the wide and deep bathing-tank,
fed with an ever-running spring of pure water, and its banks
surrounded with busts and memorial urns to the great men
of the college. Here, come through the shrubs by this
winding path to the open grass, and look before you.
What is it? A mound of earth four feet high, covered
with turf, and a decaying limb of a mulberry-tree growing
out of it, and propped up by stakes all around it ? Yes,
this is what we have come to see. This decaying mul-
berry, over two hundred and thuiy years old, is watched
and tended in Christ's with the utmost care. Years ago,
when it was falling from age, and props became of little
avail, the turf was banked up around its stem. Its chinks
are sealed up with lead and canvas like the old elm on
Boston Common ; if a bough breaks and falls it is instantly
divided with religious exactitude among the fellows of the
college. Well may they watch it, well may they treasure
it, well may pious pilgrims year after year seek it out
and save its leaves as precious relics. For it stands as
the record how the wayward, proud college-boy became
the statesman, the philosopher, the poet. It stands as
the record how a mighty genius, broken by calamity,
oppressed by bigotry, tortured by fanaticism, could yet
triumph over all opposition, and bring a world in homage
to his feet. It is the mulberry planted by the hand of
Milton.

On the Cam. 155

Retracing our steps through Christ's College, we turn
•down St. Andrew's Street, and presently there rises on
our left a well-proportioned range of Palladian buildings ;
they are the front of the two courts of Emmanuel College.
With the exception of a large pond where swans swim in
the rear, there is little remarkable about the internal ar-
rangement of this college. But about its history there is
much to notice. It was founded by Sir Walter Mildmay,
a statesman of high eminence in the reign of Queen Eliz-
abeth, and just at the time when the Puritans and the
Bishops were involved in the fiercest controversy, which
had recently resulted in the acts of uniformity, and other
confirmatory acts, endeavouring to force the Puritans into
unwilling allegiance to the Church of England. Sir Wal-
ter Mildmay was strongly attached to the simpler forms of
worship, and it was understood by all his contemporaries
that his college was for the special education of the Puri-
tans. The Queen herself met him soon after the college
had gone into operation, and said, — " So, Sir Walter, I
hear you have erected a Puritan foundation." " No,
Madam," was his reply ; " far be it from me to counte-
nance anything contrary to your established laws ; but I
have set an acorn, which, when it becomes an oak, God
alone knows what will be the fruit thereof." " And,"
says Fuller, who tells the story, writing in 1634, " sure I
am at this day it hath overshadowed all the University."

This, my friends, is why Emmanuel College is of such
tender interest to us. This it is which makes every New
England visitor to Cambridge hurry away from the hall
of Trinity, the library of Magdalene, the chapel of King's,
to gaze with pious reverence on the ancient halls where
his sainted ancestors stood forth against the bigotry and
intolerance of the whole University, and the Virgin Queen
herself, to worshipGod aftertheir own fashion. The Roman-
izing traditions of Whitgift and Bancroft had prescribed
that all churches and chapels must be built in a line east
and west. But the founder of Emmanuel had learnt from

156 On the Cam.

his Euclid, that a limited straight line can be produced in
a straight line in any direction, and, determined to give
not the slightest countenance to superstition, he drew the
line of his chapel north and south, for he knew that too
could be produced from earth to heaven. It was at Em-
manuel that were educated most of the learned ministers
who exchanged their dear native country, their parsonage
houses peeping out from among the beeches, and their an-
cient ivy-grown parish churches, where men had wor-
shipped for eight centuries, for the trackless forest. It
was from Emmanuel that there went forth Hooker and
Shepard and Higginson and John Cotton, to carry the
lamp of the Gospel and the scarcely less glorious lamp of
liberty all over the wastes of Xew England. It was from
Emmanuel that John Harvard came to make his will in
favour of the college at Newtowne and then die. These
were the children that Emmanuel sent forth to help the
struggling colony of the Massachusetts. They knew how
to stretch the transepts of their chapel east and west from
the Atlantic to the Pacific ; they knew how to extend their
nave and choir and chancel north and south from the St.
Lawrence to the Gulf; that when hatred and strife had
vanished, there might rise in one chorus from every aisle
of the nation's vast cathedral, the universal song to the
Lord Jehovah.

" Ay, call it holy ground,

The soil where first they trod ;
They have left unstained what there they found,
Freedom to worship God."

But how is the beauty of Israel fallen upon her high
places! After the restoration of Charles II, William
Bancroft was appointed Master of Emmanuel, and the
work of " purification" began, — the chapel was turned into
a library, and a new one duly built east and west. In
1753, Carter exultingly states that the " leaven of Puri-
tanism has been happily purged out a good while since,"

On the Cam. 157

— and now, Emmanuel, the home of Harvard, and Jesus,
the college of the apostle John Eliot, contend for the honour
of being the most Puseyite College in Cambridge.

Passing through the gate of Emmanuel, we continue
our walk down St. Andrew's Street. We see on the left
the passage to a large square, called Parker's Piece. It is
not in anyway fenced in, and is occasionally used for mili-
tary or agricultural shows, but mainly for cricket and foot-
ball. It is really a work of danger to cross it, for if you
do so in the spring, after you have narrowly escaped tum-
bling over a wicket on one side, and a small boy acting
long-stop on the other, you will find one very hard ball
come bang against your shin, and another thud against
your hat, two or three more bearing down upon you with
more than Folly Island accuracy, and your ears deafened
everywhere with the cry, "Thank you, ball;" "Ball, if
you please!" "Ball, sir, thank you," &c. <fcc. In the
winter Parker's Piece is given up to football.

Continuing on our way, we arrive at a large iron gate,
through which we turn, and arrive at the only place in
Cambridge which looks to an American anything like a
college yard. It is, indeed, a finely situated piece of ground
of about thirty acres in extent, a portion planted with trees,
and in the centre a wide velvet lawn, right and left of which
stand two rows of buildings, which will eventually be con-
nected so as to make three sides of an immense quad-
rangle. This is Downing College, founded, as I mentioned
in my first lecture, by Sir George Downing of Gamlingay,
a descendant of Sir George Downing, a graduate of the
first class that ever left Harvard, that of 1642. He was
appointed minister to Holland by Cromwell. By dint of
the most arrant knavery and treachery, he contrived to re-
tain the appointment under Charles II, and add to it con-
siderable wealth and a baronet's title. The second or third
Sir George Downing drew up a long and elaborate will in
1717, bequeathing all his property, after the death of the
last heir to the title, to found a college in the University

158 On the Cam.

of Cambridge. The history of the foundation is an inter-
esting commentary on the text, " How hard it is to do
good." Sir George died in 1749, and the last heir of his
race in 1764. For four years the estates were held by
persons who had no right to them. In 1768 the opinion
of the Court of Chancery was given with great minuteness
unanimously in favour of the foundation. In 1769 a
decree was obtained in favour of it. But the original
trustees had died in the lifetime of the founder, and the ex-
ecution of the trust devolving on the heirs-at-law, a series
of oppositions and litigations delayed all definite action till
1800, when the privy council recommended the foundation
to the king. The charter was granted Sept. 22ud in that
year. The statutes for the government of the college were
framed in July, 1805 ; the first stone laid on the 18tb of
May, 1807 ; and the college finally opened for the resi-
dence of undergraduates in May, 1821, — fifty-seven years
after the death of the last person who had any legal hold
on the property, seventy-two years after the death of the
original founder, and one hundred and four years after the
will was drawn, creating it. Downing College has never
been largely attended. The University teems with un-
numbered jokes about the one student there, — how, when
he is ill, he lets the tutor off from lecturing, &c. But of
late, the funds have been put more actively at work, and
the college authorities have acted very wisely, in offering
liberal inducements for the pursuit of those studies not
generally favoured in other colleges.

Crossing the court and grounds of Downing we come
out by a small iron gate through Fitzwilliam Street into
Trumpington Street, and find ourselves opposite the glo-
rious Corinthian front of the Fitzwilliam Museum. This
splendid building contains a large and exceedingly valuable
collection, but as I never saw it, I cannot describe it to
you. Passing up Trumpington Street, immediately be-
yond the Fitzwilliam Museum we come to St. Peter's
College, always called Peterhouse. This is the oldest

On the Cam. 159

college in Cambridge, having been founded in the year
1257. It consists of two very elegant courts, the first
open toward the street, the chapel standing half way
between the two sides, and connected to them by light
galleries. Through a gate on the left we have access to
the spacious and elegant gardens of Peterhouse, one of
the prettiest resorts in Cambridge, the first of them stocked
with beautiful deer. The first window on the street as we
turn into the college is in the room inhabited by the poet
Gray. He is well known to have been of the most sensi-
tive, morbid, and fastidious disposition, which rendered
him a mark for the other students to play tricks on. In
particular he had a tremendous dread of fire, and had
rigged a fire-escape connecting with this very window.
His fellow students went beneath one night and raised a
terrific cry of " fire," and poor Gray, hastily getting his
fire-escape in order, descended, and found ready to re-
ceive him a tub of cold water. These and other tricks
so disgusted him, that he migrated, as the term is, to
Pembroke.

The chapel of Peterhouse, though not very striking
outside, has some great attractions within. The east
window, representing the Crucifixion, is a very fine speci-
men of the ancient style of coloured glass, and the eight
side windows are equally beautiful examples of the elegant
Munich glass, so brilliant in colour, so lifelike in design,
so vivid in conception, and of which such an attractive
specimen has recently been presented to one of our most
ancient and honoured churches by the munificence of our
esteemed fellow citizen, by whose authority these lectures
are addressed to you, the Hon. John A. Lowell.

Crossing the street from Peterhouse, and going a little
farther on, we follow Gray in his migration, for we are
now before the old front of Pembroke College. This was
founded in the fourteenth century by the widow of Aymer
de Valence, Earl of Pembroke, a distinguished hero in the
times of Wallace and Bruce, and well known to all who

1 60 On the Cam.

have ever waded through Castle Dangerous, that sad
monument of the decay of the transcendent genius of
Sir Walter Scott. A large part of the original buildings
still remains, and is nearly tumbling to pieces. The little
retired second court, and part of the first, are wholly
covered with ivy, forming a lovely picture on the outside,
but painfully suggestive of damp within. Pembroke is
famous for possessing some curious waterworks in the
fellows' garden, and also a hollow sphere capable of
holding several persons, and made to illustrate the me-
chanism of the earth in its daily and yearly path. It has
educated a very large number of distinguished men, among
whom are the martyr Ridley and William Pitt the younger.
It has also done itself honour by bestowing its fellowships
in many cases on distinguished members of other colleges,
among whom the poet Gray, as aforesaid, and Professor
Adams, " the other discoverer of Neptune," are among the
most renowned. It is one of the pleasantest and most re-
spectable little colleges in Cambridge, and its fellowships,
though very few, are among the richest ; but the fellows
prefer, year after year, to enjoy these large funds as they
are, to dividing them into a greater number of less value,
and thus providing the means of rewarding a greater
number of students.

Kecrossing Trumpington Street, we soon come to the
handsome front of the Pitt Press. This is one of the
most prominent buildings in Cambridge, and, like King's
College Chapel, may be seen from a long distance on a
clear day, gleaming like silver in the sunlight. It is
merely an ornamental front to the printing-office behind,
and was built with the surplus of the fund raised for
erecting a statue to William Pitt. This press enjoyed
for a long time, and to a certain extent does still, in com-
mon with the University Press at Oxford, and that of a
single publisher in London, the exclusive right of printing
and publishing English Bibles and Prayer-Books. The
printing at the Pitt Press, especially the Greek, is of re-

On the Cam. 161

markable beauty. In fact the air of Cambridge Uni-
versity, whether in England or America, seems favourable
to the production of beautiful press-work.

Turning to the left down the street at the corner of
which the Pitt Press stands, and taking the first turn to
the right, we find ourselves opposite the front of Queens'
College. This college was founded by the haughty and
unfortunate Margaret of Anjou, Queen of Henry VI, and
her foundation was patronized and enlarged by her suc-
cessor, Elizabeth Woodville, Queen of Edward IV. These
two lovely and unhappy queens, who will for ever live to
assail each other in the burning lines of Richard the Third,
are here united in the noble work of charity. The college
by them jointly founded is one of the most curious, and to
many, the most attractive in Cambridge. The first court
is a fine specimen of the architecture of the Renaissance ;
the chapel is filled with curious monumental brasses. On
the right opens a broad, sunny court, with well-arranged
flower-beds and a noble walnut-tree in the centre. Behind
the hall is the second court, a quaint old pile of buildings
surrounded by a low cloister, where the sun seems to lie
all the day. On the right is the lodge occupied by the
President ; for Queens' is the only college at Cambridge
where this term is used instead of Master. It contains an
old picture-gallery of rare attractions. The buildings in
this court touch the river, and you emerge from them
upon a very quaint wooden bridge of one arch, carrying
you over into a lovely garden or rather wilderness, where
there is a broad gravel walk along the bank of the river,
with a view opposite of a smooth shaven bowling-green,
backed by many a range of majestic and quaint buildings,
while through the arch of the next bridge a glimpse is
offered of the rich masses of foliage along the Cam, over-
topped by the majestic towers of King's. Returning to
the court we see in one corner the tower from which
sounded the blasts of that silver trumpet that blew down
the accursed wall that mediaeval schoolmen had built up

162 On the Cam.

around the treasures of learning. Often and often have
devout scholars gazed with reverence on the

" lamp at midnight hour
Seen from that high lonely tower ;"

but even in the affection they bore its master, hardly
dreamed that it was indeed a light shining in a dark
place, which should shine brighter and brighter unto the
perfect day of truth and science and liberty, — for that
room was the home of learning when learning seemed
lost to Cambridge, that lamp was the lamp of Erasmus.

Passing out of this most interesting college, which of
late, though it has produced some splendid mathematicians,
has for some unexplained reason been greatly lowered in
general estimation, we come to the front of St. Catherine's
College. We enter and find ourselves in a very large
court, surrounded on three sides by ordinary brick build-
ings, and open on the fourth to Trumpington Street, into
which we pass, for there is nothing in St. Catherine's, or
Cat's, as it is commonly called, to detain us. On the
opposite side of the street is the imposing front of Corpus
Christ! College, a building in the impurer style of modern
Gothic, but very effective from the magnitude of its pro-
portions. It admits us into a very spacious court, one
of the most ambitious in the University, but inferior in
picturesqueness to the second court at the side, which is
wholly embowered in ivy. From this we pass out by a
side entrance, leading us to St. Bene't's Church,* from
whose contiguity the college was often called Bene't
College. In the time of Queen Elizabeth, the master
was Dr. Jegon, a man of considerable strictness. Some

* The lower archway of St. Bene't's, one of the most perfect
bits of Saxon architecture in England, has till lately been concealed
by a barbarous gallery, which has now however been taken down ;
and when the clearing away of the whitewash and plaster, the
pointing of the stonework, &c. at present going on is completed,
there will be no lion more interesting to the visitor of architectural
tastes in England. — ED.

On the Cam. 163

of the foundation scholars having committed an offence
for which they were heavily fined, Dr. Jegon devoted the
proceeds to various needed repairs of the buildings. Soon
after he found pasted up a paper whereon was writ —

" Dr. Jegon, Bene't College Master,
Broke the scholars' heads, and gave the walls a plaster."

The Doctor wrote underneath, —

" Knew I but the wag that wrote this verse in bravery,
I'd commend him for his wit, but whip him for his knavery."

Corpus Christi is now a flourishing college, distinguished
for educating poor young men, especially from the great
cities. Its members, consequently, take a strongly radical,
all but agrarian tone, in debates at the Union.*

Passing by St. Bene't's Church into Bene't Street, we
turn into King's Parade, which, however, is only a wider
portion of the one main street of Cambridge, which we
have already known, in parts, as Trinity, St. John's, and
Trumpiugton Streets. The whole space on our left, from
the opening of Bene't Street to Senate-House Green, is
occupied by the buildings of King's College. It consists
principally of a long ornamented wall, called a screen, in
the worst style of the modern Gothic, and exhibiting in
its centre a vast gate-lodge and archway, surmounted by
a mass of pinnacles, which look like nothing but a wine-
bottle between four glasses. Passing through this marvel-
lous structure, we enter a vast quadrangle. On our left,
is a range of buildings in the same style of architecture as
the screen, containing rooms for the undergraduates, the
hall, library, and provost's lodge. In front are the fellows'

* We are inclined to dispute this " consequence," having ob-
served that the pecuniary position of undergraduates exercises
little or no effect on their political opinions. Trinity men are, as
a rule, richer than Johnians, yet Johnians are the Tories, par ex-
cellence, while the Trinity tendencies are liberal. However, Corpus
men have a reading-room, provided with papers, &c, in their col-
lege, and are therefore no great frequenters of the Union. — ED.

164 On the Cam.

quarters, a Palladian structure, very well proportioned, and
elegant in itself, but wholly out of keeping with the older
and newer parts of the college. On the right of the quad-
rangle is the chapel.

I have already alluded to this more than once in terms
of the highest praise ; but I might allude to it again and
again, and never exhaust the subject. The first feeling
that strikes you is the perfect proportion of the whole
structure ; and this is an impression which every subse-
quent examination serves to confirm. The next is its
vastness. As you contemplate it from the other side of
the court, you notice all along the sides, built in between
each pair of buttresses, what seem like small nooks, or
cellar windows, and are amazed to find on approaching
them that they are three or four times higher than the
passer-by. Externally the building measures three hun-
dred and sixteen feet by eighty-four. Its height to the
top of the battlements is ninety, and to the top of the
four heaven-kissing pinnacles one hundred and forty-
six. These dimensions are greatly lessened internally
by the tremendous thickness of the walls. It is one vast
nave, divided in the centre by a heavy oak screen, above
which is the organ, the chapel proper being raised two
steps, paved with black marble, and filled with splendid
oak carving. On each side, twelve magnificent windows
of the finest stained glass of Henry VIII .'s time, and at
the end a still more splendid one of grander proportions,
cast an awful glory over the whole. All around, the solid
stone is wrought into ten thousand decorations, where
reign pre-eminent the rose, the portcullis, and the crown,
badges of the unhappy house of Lancaster. Far above,
the solid stone roof descends into a hundred pendants, all,
together with the massy columns that uphold it, sculptured
into countless fantasies, and bringing most vividly to mind
the exquisite conceit of Scott, how

" You would have thought some fairy hand
'Twixt poplar straight the osier wand

On the Cam. 165

In many a freakish knot had twined,

Then framed a spell when the work was done,

And changed the willow wreaths to stone."

And when the anthem is rising and swelling in floods of
harmony through all the resounding vault, the still more
entrancing picture of Milton bursts upon you, as he wrote
it in the glory of his matchless youth, and full of the
recollections of his Alma Mater, —

" But let my due feet never fail
To walk the studious cloisters pale,
And love the high embowed roof,
With antique pillars massy proof,
And storied windows richly dight,
Casting a dim, religious light :
There let the pealing organ blow,
To the full-voiced quire below,
In service high, and anthems clear,
As may with sweetness, through mine ear,
Dissolve me into ecstacies,
And bring all heaven before mine eyes."

Having finished — but ten years would not complete — the
survey of this glorious chapel, let us ascend the turret,
and pass between the roofs. Over the solid stone roof we
have just admired, is a passage the whole length of the
chapel, four or five feet high, beneath the outer roof.
Ascending to this, a most magnificent view of Cambridge
is before us. You can look down into the court-yards and
see everything that goes on, — for there is not a place in
the University of which the majestic towers are not watch-
ful guardians.

King's College, one of the very richest in the Univer-
sity, has, till lately, been of a very exceptional character.
When King Henry VI. founded it, he founded also, as
Gray has let us know, the great public school on the
bank of the Thames, commonly known as Eton College.
At this school, which generally numbers in all more than
700 boys studying there, a large number, called King's
College, are educated free, from King Henry's founda-

166 On the Cam.

tion.* Every year one or more of these, not generally
more than three or four in all, were chosen to the scholar-
ships of King's College, and in time advanced to fellow-
ships. And all this magnificent foundation was entirely
for the fifteen scholars, and sixty or seventy fellows, —
there being no pensioners or ordinary undergraduates at
all, and no members on the foundation coming from any-
where but a limited part of one school ! King's College,
however, has already been put on a more liberal footing, t
and it is supposed in time will be thrown open to all the
world, like the other colleges. This Eton preparation
makes admirable classical scholars of the King's men ; but
it is only till lately that they had a full opportunity to
show it, for, according to the old constitution, a King's
College man received his degree from the University with-
out an examination, and was, in other ways, not amenable
to University authority. But all this is now changed.

Let us go to the back of King's College, and stand on
its ancient bridge. The view is indeed beautiful. You
have in front the whole range of buildings, — Queens' Col-
lege, King's College, Clare College, St. Mary's Church,
the Senate-House, all peeping out of foliage, or standing
proudly on their smooth lawns. At your feet are the
spacious grounds of King's, shelving down to the stream
dotted with a score of gay pleasure-craft. Down the river
the graceful stone bridges of Clare and Trinity hide be-
tween them a monstrosity belonging to the town, and still
lower down the vista is completed by the rich front of St.

* We never heard the foundation at Eton called "King's Col-
lege," though the boys on it are " King's Scholars." The original
name of the school was " The College of the Blessed Mary of
Eton beside Windsor." The boys on the foundation are termed
Collegers, the others Oppidans ;' the latter numbering nearer 900
than 700.

f Under the new statute of 1861, the foundation of King's College,
Cambridge, consists of forty-six fellows, and not less than forty-
eight scholars, governed by a provost. Twenty-four of the scholar-
ships are appropriated to the scholars of Eton College. — ED.

On the Cam. 167

John's new buildings. Crossing the bridge we pass for a
moment along the road running behind the colleges, and
turn into the ancient avenue of Clare, one of the prettiest
walks in Cambridge. It ends on the very elegant bridge
just described, by which we recross the river and soon
stand in the single court of Clare College. This college
is one of the most ancient, but its buildings are a very
choice specimen of the architecture of Inigo Jones's time.
Everybody is struck with the neatness, finish, and perfect
respectability of Clare — but there is nothing very remark-
able connected with its history. Passing out of Clare, we
see before us a very ancient gateway of Gothic architec-
ture, through which there is now a passage to the Wood-
wardian Museum of Geology.* It is part of an ancient
building, called the Schools, containing rooms where the
public instruction and examination of the University was
formerly given. A little farther on, is the entrance to
Trinity Hall. I have already spoken to you of this college
as at one time entirely given to the study of the civil law.
It was then in a very lax state, hardly acknowledging any
rules at all. Of late, however, it has taken a great
start. The Senior Wrangler of the last year — 1863 — was
from Trinity Hall, and though it is very poor, it is making
glorious exertions. It is, at present, very much distin-
guished as a boating college. It is said that one or two
summers ago, a gentleman called at the gate with a view
to placing his son there. He asked the porter for the
tutor, Mr. Latham. " O, he's gone down to see the boats,
sir !"_« O, well, Mr. Stephen."—" O, sir," with a look
of utter astonishment ; " why, he's a-coaching our boat,
sir." Coaching is the regular term for all instruction.
" Well, then, I suppose I must ask for the master, Dr.
Geldart,"— " Well, sir, I think Dr. and Mrs. Geldart has
driv down to the boats, sir." Further cross-examination

* Since this was written an entrance to the Woodwardian Mu-
seum has been opened in Senate-House Passage. — ED.

168 On the Cam.

demonstrated that there was nobody in college but the
porter himself, and another college servant who was para-
lytic. The gentleman concluded he would go on to some
other college, where they didn't go in for things with quite
so much energy. Trinity Hall is indeed a hearty, jolly
place, governed and inhabited by a splendid set of men,
whose main fault is that they are given, after very noisy
suppers, to going out at nine or ten o'clock into the court-
yard, and shouting for half an hour, on the slightest pro-
vocation, and frequently on none at all. At least, I have
known them do it the night their boat became head of the
river, and the night she was bumped as well.

Cambridge has long been celebrated for the number
and excellence of its mixed drinks and possets, brewed on
a basis of generous wines, admirable hot in the winter
evenings, and still more admirable cold after breakfast,
or during whist. The very best of these, in fact the only
ones deserving the name,* are brewed at Trinity Hall
butteries, and furnished in glorious old silver craters.
The Greek word is the only exact one. If you doubt
it, go there and order a Madeira cup.

The buildings of Trinity Hall are in no way remark-
able, but they have a lovely fellows' garden along the
river.

Passing out of the second court, we see in front of us
a heavy pile of brick buildings, evidently new. It is the
hall of the last college on our list, Gonville and Caius,
always called by a peculiar mispronunciation of the last
name, Keys. To enter it to our own satisfaction we must
pass down the lane to the left, and turning into Trinity
Street, we soon arrive at a very low archway. When
Dr. Kaye Latinized his name into Caius and increased
Edmund Gonville's foundation, he established three

* Has Mr. Everett ever tasted the 'milk punch' at King's? or
the 'Cup' at Pembroke? Trinity 'Silky' he must have tasted
and forgotten. — ED.

On the Cam. 169

gates, each with an allegorical meaning. The first is
the one by which we enter. One of the last times I went
in was with a Boston friend, well known in editorial circles.
" This," said I, " is the gate of Humility ; " and as I said
it, my editorial friend, not understanding the full force of
the remark, hit his elegant beaver a most fearful smash
against the low arch of the gate of Humility. You come
into a curious irregular shaped court-yard, with a few
strange old buildings in it, roughly paved, and planted
with trees. In front a more imposing gateway greets
you, and as you pass through its ample arch, you see, by
the Latin inscription, that it is known as the gate of
Wisdom and Virtue. It leads you into the second court.
Both this and a third court on the right are extremely
common in their appearance, and quite unworthy of the
college, which ranks as the third in size at Cambridge,
and is much resorted to by two sets of men. First, per-
sons preparing for the medical profession, for which great
incentives to study are offered at Caius ; and, second,
persons of the Low Church party. Of these Caius is
the stronghold in Cambridge. The new hall is very fine,
quite worthy of the college which had the honour to edu-
cate William Harvey, the discoverer of the circulation of
the blood.

Finally, we turn to the left from the second court and
leave it by Dr. Kaye's third gate, that of Honour. It is
elegantly decorated, and one of the prettiest of the smaller
objects in Cambridge. You have now completed with
me the rounds of the colleges, and should you feel fa-
tigued, we are at the entrance of the University Library,
where you can go in and rest ; and I will leave you there
for the present, as you will hardly be able to read through
all the two hundred and odd thousand volumes before next
Friday night.

YIII.
GREAT MEN OF CAMBRIDGE BEFORE 1688.

Erasmus and early Scholars. — Reformers. — Elizabethan States-
men and Poets. — Sir Edward Coke. — Translators of the Bible.
— Bacon. — New England Puritans. — Strafford. — Cromwell.
—Milton.

my last three lectures I have endeavoured
to fulfil my promise of giving you some
insight into the actual condition of the
Cambridge students, their ordinary and
extraordinary mode of life, as it is in the
largest and most important college, with a glimpse at the
peculiarities in colleges smaller, but not on that account
of less marked individuality. But you will see at once
that if we stopped here, we should obtain but an imperfect
idea of what the Cambridge man truly is. The under-
graduate life, though a picture singularly curious, in-
teresting, may I not say lovely to any warm-hearted
observer, is yet rather the promise than the reality. The
young men themselves, exercised in college studies, ex-
cited by college amusements, absorbed by college compa-
nionships, realize but little the influences they are going
through. The lessons learnt at Cambridge, about the age
when the law allows the privileges of manhood, are often
not put in practice till many years, and perhaps many
miles, separate the graduate from his Alma Mater. And
since the University is confessedly and avowedly a training

On the Cam. 171

school, we must look to those who have been her sons,
rather than those who are, for the full value of her lessons.
For instance, if a Bostonian sought to impress a stranger
with the value of the education given at Harvard, he
would not dwell so much on the varied and interesting
and improving course of study pursued there, or on its
administration by a most intelligent and conscientious
body of instructors, or on the annual resort made there
by the most promising offspring of the most honoured
families. No ; rather on its past history, — on its having
been the mother of so many renowned sons, — on its having
sent forth the fathers of the American Revolution, Otis
and Warren, and the five brave men of Massachusetts whose
names stand on the charter of 76; that it was the home
of our great historians, Sparks and Bancroft and Prescott
and Motley, — that the long series of the Massachusetts
Chief Justices, that have placed the decisions of her
courts at the very head of the common law authorities,
went forth from its walls, — that in the space of one
hundred and ninety-three years it has not once had to
go out of its own graduates to seek a presiding officer
over the gallant youth intrusted to it.

And so, ladies and gentlemen, you will at once recog-
nize that I shall present to you a most important view of
the value of Cambridge life and education, when I recall
to you in this lecture and the following the names and
services of the great men of England that have been
educated at Cambridge, and thus fulfil the second part
of my engagement of the other night, to show you what
manner of men have been inmates of her halls in times

In this investigation I shall not attempt to trace the
sons of Cambridge into the Middle Ages. True that it
was even in those misty times one of the few places
where the rays of the sun of truth did penetrate the
gloom, but its history is too uncertain, and the part
played by University men in the struggles of those

172 On the Cam.

stormy times too insignificant, to detain us long. The
Reeve's tale in Chaucer presents us with a very lively
though very coarse picture of the manners of the under-
graduates. That, together with the tradition that Chaucer
himself studied there, must suffice us till we come to the
period of the revival of learning and the Reformation of
the Church.

And these two great movements of the human mind
furnish a most appropriate introduction to the history of
the great men of Cambridge. From the moment that
the torch of truth was brought to the shores of England,
the sons of Cambridge leapt forth to seize the precious
flame and bear it on, blazing brighter and brighter, to
generations of Englishmen yet to come. The greatest
name connected with the revival of learning — in some
respects the greatest name in modern literature — is in-
dissolubly associated with Cambridge, that of the mighty
Erasmus. He is not the earliest of all the scholars in the
new field of Greek literature, — possibly not the most
learned. But no one man ever did so much to spread
such a wealth of learning over such a great part of Europe
as Erasmus. After his fame had become established
throughout the Western world, after he had finished that
long and laborious course of study that made him master
of the treasures of all ancient lore, he came to reside at
Cambridge, in the second court of Queens' College, and
was appointed to the professorships of Greek and Divinity.
The arrival of such a man, with such a reputation, at
once struck the death-blow at the monsters of mediaeval
quibbling that had so long held undisputed pre-eminence
in the schools at Cambridge, and the new study of classical
literature began its triumphant march. Erasmus himself
did not remain more than a few years at Cambridge. It
was not for the Coryphaeus of literature to give his whole
life to any one place. But his spirit remained and a
brilliant race of scholars succeeded, the worthy precursors
of the great lights of later days. Of these the most dis-

On the Cam. 173

tinguished were three, who were selected as tutors to three
grandchildren of Henry VII, Sir John Cheke, tutor to
Edward VI, John Aylmer, tutor to Lady Jane Grey, and
Eoger Ascham, tutor to Queen Elizabeth. It is beauti-
ful to notice in the lives of these men the softening in-
fluence of a new and free course of study, a protest against
the verbal formalities of an earlier age. In the " School-
master" of Roger Ascham, we find an eloquent denuncia-
tion of the cruel usage of scholars by their teachers ; and
in the letters of Lady Jane Grey it is related how en-
gaging was the gentleness of John Aylmer as opposed
to the severity of her parents, — the " pinches, nips, and
bobs" with which Lord and Lady Dorset sought to train
the tenderest soul that ever died to appease a woman's
hate. Alas ! three hundred years have had their effect,
and even Latin and Greek masters in England now avail
themselves too often of these same " pinches, nips, and
bobs."

Nor was Cambridge behind-hand in the work of the
English Reformation. Sad indeed it is to think that the
glorious reviver of literature, so nobly qualified to be also
the reviver of Gospel truth, should have let himself be
retained in the ranks of superstition, against which his
heart and his mind alike revolted. But the spirit of free
inquiry which he had planted at Cambridge could not be
destroyed. The names which we are most accustomed to
associate with the fires of martyrdom, the learned and
energetic Ridley, the politic and adroit Cranmer, the
honest and intrepid Latimer, all testified to the value of
Cambridge training by their deaths in the market-place
of Oxford. In the succeeding generations, the haughty
prelates that upheld the hands of Elizabeth in her strug-
gle with Puritanism, Whitgift, and Grindall, and Parker,
were all faithful sons of Cambridge. Again and again
raised to positions of authority in Church and State, yet
their proudest titles are written in the books of their mo-
ther's colleges, where their constant transfer from one

174 On the Cam.

fellowship to another shows how eagerly the halls that
knew their early promise vied with each other to do honour
to their majestic maturity.

We may hesitate before we accord high praise to the
characters of those divines who attempted to force the
hated yoke of an alien religion on the necks of the daunt-
less confessors who paid, with country, liberty, and life, for
their adherence to a simpler worship. A much more
ample meed of honour are we ready to bestow upon that
wonderful group of civilians and courtiers that surrounds
the throne of Elizabeth : —

" Girt with many a baron bold,
Sublime their starry fronts they rear,
And gorgeous dames, and statesmen old,
In bearded majesty appear."

There we behold "Walsingham, the accomplished, the
adroit, the high-minded, upholding the interests of the
cause of liberty, and the United Provinces, against all the
parsimony and coquetry of Elizabeth ; there is Nicholas
Bacon, the great father of the greater son, the faithful
friend of England, ever in advance of his age, steadily
rolling back the waves of Scottish force and Spanish fraud,
still holding to the golden mean, still faithful to his motto
of " Mediocria firma ;" there is Hatton, called to a lofty
station, because his grace and elegance had captivated the
woman's heart, yet sustaining himself in a manner not
unworthy of her chancellor, who stood alone against Guise
and Farnese, and Hapsburg; there is the still more ac-
complished, the still more elegant, alas, the too unfortu-
nate son of glory, as daring as Frobisher, as far-seeing as
Mildmay, as fascinating as Leicester, yet a perfect gentle-
man, a true friend of the people, a loyal subject of the
Queen, the brave, the high-minded, the thrice unhappy
Essex ; then, lastly, surrounded by a throng of disciples
inferior in skill, in reputation, in foresight, to him, but to
him alone, stands the ancient treasurer, — the minister for

On the Cam. 175

forty years, the one man for whom this queen forgot alike
caprice and haughtiness, — the intelligent, the judicious,
the honoured, Burghley. And all these men, and those
who sat at their feet, and drank of their wisdom, — all these
men who sustained the English state so long against the
Escurial, the Louvre, and the Vatican combined, — all
were loyal, devoted sons of Cambridge. So she responded
to the call of literature ; so she responded to the calls of
the Church ; and so, with tenfold energy, she responded
to the call of the state. One name, indeed, is wanting to the
glory of Cambridge, — the only one that could have raised
its glory higher, — the man whom no University educated,
because no University could educate him as well as he
educated himself, — the peerless star of poetry.* Yet, in
that bright constellation, which seems to turn round that
one constant, spotless orb, there are other stars, of less
magnitude indeed, but sparkling with a tender lustre all
their own, that we never could spare from the intellectual
heavens ; and that one whose light is the purest, whose
twinkle is the merriest, whose blaze is the most constant,
— who but he is a son of Cambridge ? — who but he drew in
the breath of poetry on the banks of the Cam ? — who but
the laureate king of fairy land? — who but Edmund
Spenser ?

In the next age, when for the pure, breezy air of the
Elizabethan period, there comes over us a sweet but sickly
perfume, fit introduction to the deadlier blast of war, that
is soon to scorch us, — Cambridge sends forth many a
gallant son, whose fresh inspiration of genius and sound
learning blows cool and pure in the heavy air. Hers are
two poets, the best of their age. Jonson, — glorious Ben,
— rough indeed, and rushing into wild vagaries, but ever
weighty, manly, and teeming with true wit and humour ;
and likewise that gentle soul, fettered by the heartless

* Would that Shakespeare had been educated at one of the Uni-
versities ! it would probably have been better for his own happiness,
and we should have known more about him. — ED.

176 On the Cam.

conceits and fancies of his time, but dear to every pious
heart for his heavenly resignation, his spotless holiness, his
unfeigned love to God and man, the Church's poet, George
Herbert. Hers likewise are the masters of the three great
arts that rule the world. From her halls came forth the
true founder of modern anatomy, William Harvey, whose
wonderful insight first caught the electric flash of truth
that in one blaze joined together all the scattered dis-
coveries that men had been painfully struggling to make
out for centuries, and placed on an irrefragable basis the
philosophy of the fountain of life. Hers is the mighty
Coke, whose name, in spite of his harshness, his per-
plexities, his arrogance, must ever be held up to the Saxon
world as the great master and expounder of that wondrous
system, the common law of England as founded in remote
ages by Gascoigne and Littleton, sons of Cambridge, and
who deserves still greater honour, in spite of still greater
harshness and arrogance, because he alone stood up against
king, lords, and commons, to stigmatize by their right
names the vices of the chancellor, and alone, in a corrupt
age, never sullied the purity of the judicial ermine. And
to her, above all, belongs the largest part of those sainted
fathers, who, in an age of senseless quibblings, of nauseous
bombast, of barren wranglings, gave to the English world
that stupendous work, which for two hundred and fifty-six
years has stood forth the noblest specimen of our noble
language, and oh, a thousandfold better praise, has been
the solace of hundreds of millions, the guide of youth, the
friend of manhood, the staff of age, — the English Bible.

But in this age, so interesting and yet so painful, there
is one name that arrests the attention of every one with a
peculiar fascination, because it is one of those names to
which we refer immediately the great movements in the
human mind that have made our age other and better
than those before it. I mean, of course, Francis Bacon.
It is much to be like Erasmus, a great leader in a great
time, standing confessedly far in advance of it. It is

On the Cam. 177

honourable, like Burghley, to take a position slightly in
advance of the age, and when seeming most to yield to its
influence, really to be carrying the age itself onward little
by little. But there is a peculiar glory belonging to that
man, who before all others, contrary to all others, can feel
in his own soul the divine message which calls him to
be the one deliverer from bondage, the one guide to
a promised land ; to see what other men have not seen,
and cannot see, except he reveal it ; to proclaim to an
enslaved and superstitious world a new prospect of liberty,
a new name of God ; to " speak to the children of Israel
that they go forward," — to assert a new law above super-
stition, above tradition, above long-established custom; to
mount to that summit, which is to others but a weary,
barren peak, and raising his eyes northward and south-
ward and westward, behold the fields standing thick with
corn, shouting for joy and singing, white with harvest
and waiting but for the labourers to thrust in the sickle, —
the lakes and rivers flashing in the noonday, and waiting
for the fishers of men to launch out their ships and let
down their nets for a draught, — the hillsides clothed up
to their summits with thick vines teeming with the dark,
full-orbed clusters, bursting with the juice of life, and
needing but the manly feet to tread the ensanguined
wine-press, — the hill tops shouting from every cleft for
the cities to be set on them that cannot be hid, — he who
can do all this, see all this, declare all this, he is the
offspring of gods, — he is the King of men.

It is interesting to mark the soil in which the seeds of
greatness are sown. In the latter half of the sixteenth
century the whole continent of Europe was torn by the
strife of two opposite factions, Eome and Geneva, — the
bigots and the fanatics, — the first incapable of producing
a, reformer, the second equally incapable of producing a
philosopher ; and when the time came that the philoso-
pher and the reformer must appear in one person, there
was in all Europe but one place and one body of men

N

178 On the Cam.

wherein he could arise. In England, in that company of
grave, studious, enlightened statesmen, equally removed
from bigotry and fanaticism, equally friendly to progress
and philosophy, seems marked by the finger of Providence
the fit nidus for the imperial seed. I have shown the
share that Cambridge had in forming the minds of Eliza-
beth's counsellors. It is at Cambridge then that their
great inheritor must be trained, he must learn at Cam-
bridge the same lessons of gravity and progress that his
fathers learnt, and bring forth from them that stupendous
work, the revolutionizing of human knowledge. Yes, a
statesman of Elizabeth must furnish the stock, — King
Henry's College must train and water. The son of Sir
Nicholas Bacon, the son of Trinity College in Cambridge,
is Francis Bacon, the parent of the new philosophy.

It must be in truth stated, that the benefits rendered to
the mind of Bacon by the studies of Cambridge were
rather by inspiring a disgust of the wrong mode of train-
ing than love of the right. The exertions of Erasmus for
literature had not penetrated to the bottom, and the
sciences it need not be said were in bondage. Hence
Bacon left Cambridge with a disgust at the whole system
of the schoolmen's Aristotelianisms, which led to the
determination to find some new field for human thought.
This was well. The emancipation of the sciences might
have been delayed for many years, had not their liberator
been given the strongest proofs of the trammels in which
they were held in the most liberal institution in the world.
It is no disgrace to Cambridge that before the new philo-
sophy was born she was faithful to the old ; but if her
head was still untutored her heart was sound, and no
child of hers would ever have inaugurated the great reform,
if she had not been the asylum of liberal principles and
generous impulses.

It is impossible, while we are extolling Bacon to the
skies as the founder of a new system of intellectual activity,
and holding up his name as an honour to his Alma Mater,

On the Cam. 179

to avoid some notice of his political character, and give our
answer to the question that has exercised so many minds,
whether the Chancellor is to sink the character of the
Liberator in a black slough of odium, or merely stand by
as a man of his age, amiable but not perfect, leaving the
Philosopher to shine with untarnished glory. A most in-
genious attempt has recently been made by Mr. Hepworth
Dixon to clear Lord Bacon's character from all odious im-
putations. The spirit in which such a work is conceived is
a tender one, but not on that account necessarily a right
one. Macaulay has shown great reasons for thinking that
spotless integrity in high places was in that age not so
wholly despised as is commonly supposed, — that many
vigorous protests had for at least a century been fulmined
in the ears of the most servile courtier ; and that the pub-
lic mind was awake to the beauty of purity and the foulness
of venality. On one occasion I heard one of the most dis-
tinguished English philosophers admit this, and urge that a
man who received the unheard-of honour of being elected
to Parliament for three constituencies at once, cannot have
been notoriously corrupt in the face of the English people.
I reminded him that this identical unheard-of honour was
conferred on Admiral Russell ninety years afterwards,
merely from the ebullition of party feeling, at the time
when he sat in King William's Council with a letter from
King James in his pocket. But in the examination of a
character like Bacon I am content to waive all this. Grant
that the age was hopelessly corrupt, was Bacon to be bound
by his age ? When struggling in chambers in the Inns of
Court, coldly patronized by his powerful cousins, he had
the magnificent boldness to assert that he had taken all
knowledge to be his province. Acting up to this declara-
tion, he carried out his new system of philosophy against
England and the Continent, against Oxford and Cambridge,
against Leyden and Padua. Knowing that he could not
be appreciated in his own day, knowing, it would seem,
that it must take fifty years for Newton to —

180 On the Cam.

" Let down the golden everlasting chain,
Whose strong embrace holds heaven, and earth, and main;"

that it must take a hundred and thirty years before Frank-
lin could draw the lightning from heaven ; that it must
take over two centuries before days of ceaseless observa-
tion and weary toil, and nights of exposure and chill on
the inhospitable Alps, should permit that the colossal mys-
tery of these Titanic currents, driving their crystal moun-
tains across the length and breadth of nations, should be
revealed to the piercing eye of Agassiz, — Bacon solemnly
bequeathed his works to the judgment of posterity. And
such a man is to be judged by the age, such a man is to
be pardoned because the times were corrupt ! The philo-
sopher could tear to rags the flimsy subtleties of Aquinas,
and wrench away with unlineal hand the sceptre from the
grasp of Aristotle. But the Chancellor is to receive a
compliment after the manner of Cecil, and accept a con-
sideration by the pattern of Egerton ! Yes, Duns Scotus
gave no pounds or places if his works were spared ; Aris-
totle offered no lands or peerages in pawn for his crown ;
and the scapegrace of Trinity combination-room hurled
them from their seats of honour. But Buckingham spoke a
gracious word, James slobbered a fulsome compliment, and
the son of the Hertfordshire baronet bowed to the dust
before the favourite of the Austrian and the Solomon of
Scotland. O, if that transcendent mind had but " armed
itself to bear " a single reverse, to stand by a single un-
fortunate friend, to turn from a single bribe, we might
have lived a few years more in syllogisms and quibblings,
we might have had Halley and Hunter each a century
later ; but England would not have had to wait two cen-
turies before the morality of the woolsack became as pure
as the morality of the fireside, nor would a Dixon and a
Montagu have had to exert all their ability to apologize
for venality against the indignant reclamations of a Mil-
man and a Macaulay.

Lord Bacon, Chancellor to James I, died in 1626. In

On the Cam. 181

1632 terminated the University life of Milton, who was
Secretary to Cromwell. The intervening six years, be-
longing peculiarly to the reign of Charles I, are signalized
for England by the foundation of the Massachusetts colony.
Without detracting the least from the sacred devotion of
the Plymouth pilgrims in 1620, or the enterprise of the
Salem pioneers in 1624, we must yet look to the expedi-
tion of 1 629 as giving its real character to the settlement
of Massachusetts as she now is. Observe then, my friends,
how, at each successive stage in the ever-renewed neces-
sities of human progress, Cambridge stands with the men.
Did the literary tastes of England need reformers ? Cam-
bridge has them ready. Did the Church of England need
learned and devout men to strengthen it? Cambridge has
them ready. Did the statesmanship of England need re-
organization or rather creation ? Cambridge sends forth a
brilliant body of men to do the work to the admiration of
the world. And now that Providence has brought the time
for a new work of grace, now that the oppressions of the
Non- conformists have come to that point of cruelty that
they cannot be borne in England, and yet have not so inter-
woven themselves with political affairs that they can be
forcibly resisted in England ; now, in short, that the " three
kingdoms are to be sifted to plant the wilderness," it is at
Cambridge that the plan of the new colonies is laid ; it is
from the graduates of Cambridge that the new colonists
go. These facts, long known to diligent antiquaries and
historians, are too 'much forgotten by the descendants of
those men, to whom the name of Oxford, the stronghold
of intolerance, is more familiar than Cambridge, the mother
of their ancestors. They have, however, been lately recalled
to us by that most interesting monument of the piety and
reverence of a descendant, who has embalmed for ever, by
the rich adornments of typography, and the still richer
adornments of taste and genius, the cares, the struggles,
the affections, the prayers of the most honoured of the
founders of Massachusetts, and added a new leaf to the

182 On the Cam.

laureate crown that encircles the name of "Winthrop. To
the original documents incorporated in this most interesting
record we owe our knowledge of the fact that John
"Winthrop, Governor of Massachusetts, by many supposed
to have been unconnected with either University, was in
fact a member of Trinity College, Cambridge, and, though
his academic course was prematurely closed, always re-
tained a friendly intercourse with the old halls. And of
the brave, the learned, the pious men who accompanied
or immediately followed him, by far the majority were
graduates of Cambridge ; and it is truly a delight to me
to recall some of their names to you, and if I can, forge
another link in that golden chain whereby I seek to connect
indissolubly my country and my University.

Of the brave and wise laymen, who assisted Winthrop
in laying the foundations of the infant government, few had
a college education. Few civilians had adopted the doc-
trines of the Puritans in that class which attended the
Universities. There are two names, however, distinguished
in the administration of affairs ; — the venerable Simon
Bradstreet, the last of the colonists, whom the people of
Massachusetts chose for their governor, in place of the
tyrant imported by the Stuarts ; he was a son of Emmanuel
College ; — and Hugh Peters, who, casting in his lot for
some years with New England, returned to his own country
to share in yet fiercer troubles, and was one of those fear-
less men that signed the death-warrant of the public enemy
and traitor Charles Stuart.* But it is chiefly in the list
of reverend divines that Cambridge furnished the strength
of New England. Even in the Salem company, before
Winthrop left England, Francis Higginson of Jesus Col-

* The defence of the regicides lies in the difficulty we have at
the present time in judging of their position, their motives, and
the passions which swayed them. Surely it is a dangerous thing
to applaud them for the deed itself; the scholar may amuse him-
self with a theory, but the practical man may make it a precedent.
—En.

On the Cam. 183

lege went out to be the first minister of Salem. There
are those who excuse the treatment of the Puritans, and
attempt, in this day of enlightenment, to obtain popularity
for that poor senseless bigot, Archbishop Laud, — let such
listen to the words of Higginson, as he departed on his
tempestuous voyage to Salem. Calling up his children
and other passengers into the stern of the ship, to take
their last sight of England, he said, — " We will not say
as the Separatists are wont to say at their leaving of
England, ' Farewell, Babylon ! Farewell, Borne.' But
we will say, ' Farewell, dear England ! Farewell the
Church of God in England and all Christian friends there !
We do not go to New England as Separatists from the
Church of England .... but we go to propagate the
Gospel in America.'" And so he concluded with a fer-
vent prayer for the king and church and state in England.
His successor in Salem, Skelton, was likewise a son of
Cambridge from Clare Hall. Two progenitors of honoured
races in New England, Ezekiel Rogers of Rowley, and
George Phillips of Watertown, were both sons of Cam-
bridge ; the former from Corpus, the latter from Caius.
But the great strength of ministers was from Emmanuel :
Maude of Dover, Whitney of Lynn, and Ward of Ipswich,
all were children of her vigorous youth. From her were
the two valiant pioneers, Hooker and Stone of Cambridge,
who had scarcely brought that settlement to a state of
prosperity before they resolved to penetrate yet farther
into the wilderness, and pitched their tent on the lovely
river-side at Hartford. From her, too, was Shepard, the
chief glory of the early church at Cambridge. These
names alone would be enough to entitle the ancient halls
on the Cam to the eternal honour and love of the people
of New England, and of all the States of the Union, whose
pioneers were New England men. But there are yet
dearer names. From Jesus College came that most
devoted of men, who, when hundreds around him, of those
whose piety was most renowned, were thinking of nothing

184 On the Cam.

but their own prosperity, gave the whole force of his faith-
ful, his energetic, his well-trained mind to casting, if pos-
sihle, a single ray of light on the poor, neglected, outraged
children of the forest, and completed, without assistance,
that superhuman work, the translation of the whole Bible
into the Indian language, — the Apostle John Eliot. From
Cambridge, also, I need not say again, for it formed the
theme of my first lecture, came the fathers of our thrice-
honoured home of learning, — our dear Alma Mater, our
peerless Harvard. From the walls of Emmanuel came
that gentle divine, who just lived to be admitted a freeman
of Charlestown, and then closed his youthful eyes in death,
but not before he had bequeathed half his slender fortune,
and though he knew it not, his name, to the New England
college. From Cambridge, also, came the first two Pre-
sidents of Harvard, and the only two which have not been
her own children, — Henry Dunster of Emmanuel, and
Charles Chauncy of Trinity. So that, indeed, Cambridge
in America is the child of Cambridge in England, bone of
her bone, and flesh of her flesh, and that strong, deep, rich
stream which flowed through the heart of Burghley and
Spenser and Coke and Bacon, is the source of that proud
current, which, after nerving the hearts and hands of so
many statesmen and counsellors and divines, is now, with
its holy dew, moistening the worn-out fields of Virginia,
in the hope to prepare it for an unwonted harvest of
Freedom.

But our obligations to Cambridge are not yet concluded.
For it is you and I, fellow-citizens, we men and women of
Boston, that have reason to be proud of our sainted ances-
tors, who came forth from the walls of Cambridge. Who,
with his eye, sharper than any diviner's rod, detected the
lovely springs of water that flowed into the defiles of these
hills, and turned the Shawmut peninsula into Trimoun-
taine ? — who but William Blackstone of Emmanuel ? The
faithful ministers of the First Church, that, it must be
confessed, waged rather unsparing war against those who

On the Cam. 185

did not agree with them, but still were learned, just, and
holy men, — 'do we owe no debt to them ? — John Wilson
of King's and John Norton of Peterhouse ? And him who
was selected from all England as the chosen pastor of that
old First Church in Boston, — him, the scholar, the preacher,
the father, — him, in whose honour the beloved name of
Boston was given to Trimountaine, — him, whose blood is
in the veins of hundreds, far and wide, in New England,
— shall we not shout for his name, our honoured patriarch
and exemplar, — John Cotton ?

John Cotton was, indeed, a true son of Cambridge. He
was educated at Trinity College, winning the esteem and
honour of all who knew him. Under ordinary circumstances
he would undoubtedly have been a fellow of Trinity; but, in
the year for his competition, the expenses entailed by the
erection of the hall I described to you the other day broke
in on the distribution of fellowships. He, however, received
a fellowship at Emmanuel, and gave himself zealously to
the work of preaching. His style of oratory was brilliant
and captivating ; and was wont, as was the custom of the
English Church down to the reign of William the Third,
to draw forth the loud hums of the assembled undergra-
duates. But several days of serious thought led our
modest and reverend patriarch to doubt the propriety of
this Periclean oratory, as his grandson Mather calls it ;
and, when he was appointed to preach at the University
church, a large auditory, which had assembled to hear a
mouth-filling piece of rhetoric, were astounded by a plain,
trenchant discourse on the duty of repentance. Such
Puritanism they would not hum. But Cotton cared not
for hums nor hahs. He soon received the invitation to
preside over the parish which is overtopped by the majestic
tower of Old Boston, in Lincolnshire ; and, after serving in
patience and fortitude against all the thunder of the petty
Vatican set up at Lambeth, he left his noble church on the
German Ocean, and his loved resort by the Cam, and sought
peace and freedom in the New Boston. Here he died,

186 On tJie Cam.

full of years and full of honour. Here his name stands
for ever, a beacon light to all Christians and freemen ;
and here his descendant rejoices, to-night, that he can
make the name of his venerated ancestor a bond between
New England and Old.

To Old England our attention is now again attracted by
the tremendous crisis which overwhelmed her, and threat-
ened, at times, to subvert all order and law in her state ;
but which developed in her sons a genius for oratory, for
statecraft, for battle, inferior to no nation in the world, and
to which we cannot but attribute most of the blessings that,
after the overflow of the torrent of revolution had gone by,
sprang up from the enriched soil of freedom. It is need-
less to say that both the Universities, when the final appeal
to arms came, ranged themselves on the side of the king.
From both were derived abundant contributions of plate
and money ; from both many a gallant young student went
forth in what he deemed the cause of right. From Cam-
bridge came the two extremes of the Cavalier party, — the
two men that might be esteemed each as expressing in
himself, the one all the crimes of the tyrant, the other all
the virtues of the party. It is the questionable glory of
Cambridge to have educated that loveliest of serpents, that
most honied of traitors, the apostate friend of liberty, who,
after making his name honoured as the defender of the
people, sold this glorious birthright for a title, and enrolled
himself among the evil counsellors, whose advice the
tyrant loved to take, because it suited full well the dic-
tates of his own heart. False to liberty, false to the
people, false to himself as he was, Cambridge cannot but
sigh for the learning, the eloquence, the courage, that
perished with her unhappy son, — Thomas, Earl of Strafford.
And, while he was breathing his accursed poison into the too
willing ear of Charles, another son of Cambridge, who, in
his ardent devotion to the throne, never lost his love for
the people, was pleading and praying that gentle measures,
and unbroken faith, might be the monarch's guide. It is

On the Cam. 187

the old story of the two angels, on the right and the left.
But, though the demon's counsels prevailed, and though
even his headlong fall from earth in a cloud of lurid flame
could not deter his infatuated master, still that gentle spirit
kept by the side of his monarch ; and, when all had been
tried in vain, he sealed his devotion with his life, — the
loveliest, the truest, the tenderest soul of men. And over
his grave we feel our hearts half drawn to the cause from
which our minds revolt, and drop a memorial tear for the
son of Cambridge, Lucius, Viscount Falkland.

But in this great cause, where mighty principles of law
and government and morality are at stake, let us not be
misguided. Sons of the Puritans, let no considerations of
mere sentimentality or personal attractions lure us from
admiration of these mighty heroes, the champions of Eng-
lish liberty. Those whom the influence overshadows of a
throne, an aristocracy, an established church, — those may
refuse, from conscience and timidity, to espouse the sterner
but the juster side. But we, — we can weep over Falk-
land, but we recognize with pride that on the list of the
sons of Cambridge there stands next to his the name of
the scion of nobility who dared to be faithful to the people,
the ancestor of a noble race who still remain in our own
borders, and in whose honoured home the Father of his
Country loved to find hospitality and affection, — the leader
of the armies of the Parliament, Thomas, Lord Fairfax.

But Cambridge has another name that at this period
won far greater renown. In the little college of Sydney
Sussex, there hangs an original portrait of one of the very
first men who ever studied there. It is said that the con-
templation of this portrait afforded to David Hume the
materials for that elaborate character he has drawn of the
greatest man that comes into his history. In the case of
Hume there was every passion at work to lead him to
vilify unsparingly the mighty subject of his portraiture. A
Scot, he had doubtless been satiated at his nurse's knee
with songs that cursed the conqueror of Dunbar field. A

188 On the Cam.

devoted adherent of monarchy, he detested the founder of
the Commonwealth. A professed deist, he was incapable
of sympathizing with the leader of the Puritans. A prac-
tical infidel, his whole nature was alien to the man who
was so tremendously in earnest in all his actions. Yet
even he, from a calm study of that nervous face, that the
flattering painter received such imperative directions to
leave in its native plainness, is obliged to acknowledge the
injustice of the abuse lavished on his subject by the Stuart
partisans ; is compelled to temper every censure with a
compliment, and finally to award him that splendid praise,
which he shares with our peerless Washington, a perfect
self-control of a fiery and haughty nature. Such is the
verdict of an enemy. But for us, fellow-citizens, for us,
children of the Puritans, for I love to repeat the name,
there need be no hesitation. We do not need the lofty
verses of Milton, the rugged logic of Carlyle, the match-
less eloquence of Macaulay, to change our hate into love,
or quicken our cold encomiums into heartiness. The tra-
ditions of our ancestors call upon us to admire the Puritan ;
the recollections of '76 appeal to us not to falter in our
admiration of him who crushed the tyrant ; and our
brethren, falling every day in defence of their country's
outraged laws, cry to us from the ground to raise the shout
of glory for the mighty leader who could see through the
bloody cloud of civil strife the pathway to peace, and strike
a crushing blow at the crest of the despot, who set up the
standard of battle rather than abide by his faith and the
laws.

Yes, bigots may defame him, tyrants may insult him,
but when the hosts of God rise for their great review, and
the champions of liberty bare their scars, there shall stand
in the foremost rank, shining as the brightness of the fir-
mament, the majestic son of Cambridge, the avenger and
protector, Oliver Cromwell.

It would be delightful, if in the case of all these men,
so renowned in their various ways, we had fall accounts of

On the Cam. 189

their college life. A few traditions have been preserved,
but only a few. One of the most important personages at
Cambridge in the first quarter of the seventeenth century
was old Hobson, the carrier. In the year 1625, a plague
in London obliged his regular trips to the metropolis, with
letters and parcels, to be suspended. His regular work
being thus interrupted, he sickened and died. A young
student of Christ's College, then only seventeen years of
age, composed a couple of epigrams on this irreparable
loss, and I read you a compilation from both, to give you
a little idea of Cambridge wit at that time.

" Here lies Old Hobson ! Death hath broke his girt,
And here, alas, hath laid him in the dirt ;
Or else the ways being foul, twenty to one,
He's here stuck in a slough, and overthrown.
Best that gives all men life, gave him his death,
And too much breathing put him out of breath ;
Nor were it contradiction to affirm
Too long vacation hastened on his term.
Merely to drive the time away he sickened,
Fainted and died, nor would with ale be quickened ;
' Nay,' quoth he, on his swooning bed outstretched,
'If I mayn't carry, sure I'll ne'er be fetched.'
Ease was his chief disease, and to judge right,
He died for heaviness, that his cart went light ;
His leisure told him that his time was come,
And lack of load made his life burdensome.
But had his doings lasted as they were,
He had been an immortal carrier.
His letters are delivered all and gone,
Only remains this superscription."

It would, perhaps, require some perspicacity to detect, in
these reiterated conceits and rough verses, the gravity of
thought and melody of diction that entrance us in the pages
of " Paradise Lost."

In no part of history, ancient or modern, is there a life
of such intense though melancholy interest as that of Mil-
ton. His course at college is represented by old tradition
to have been a contest, and a bitter one, with the autho-

190 On the Cam.

rities. It is not unlikely that that fearless spirit, that
dared confront the direst anathemas of church and state,
may have incurred the censure of some academic martinet,
— but it is impossible that the college life of so good a
scholar, and so pious a man, could have been a series of
rebellions and punishments.* For the ten years after
leaving Cambridge, the life of Milton is like his own Eden,
a living garden of all the fruits most exquisite to a young
man ; personal beauty of an enchanting perfection, — the
devoted friendship of some of the choicest spirits of the age,
and experienced in all the delights of a tour in Italy, — a
welcome at the delightful country mansions of the English
nobility, where the art of living is understood as nowhere
else in the world, — the attention of all observers, attracted
more and more each year to the exquisite beauties of his
occasional lyrics. Had Milton died at thirty, he would
have been universally esteemed one of the happiest of men.
In 1641, his life changed. Liberty and truth were assailed
by tyranny and bigotry, and calmly this young and ele-
gant poet comes forward to grapple in the death-struggle.
For ten more years his life is given to a defence of the great
principles on which he believes justice and truth to rest.
He knows full well what the issue of such a fight must be,
and what the world would require at his hands, and not
for an instant does he falter in his great work, till he has
won a name, as a statesman, that sounds through Europe.
Had he died in 1652, twenty years after leaving college,
he would have lost some private happiness, but he would
have died in the full enjoyment of well-earned fame. But for
twenty-two more years he must struggle with all the ills that
flesh is heir to. First went those rich dark eyes, that had
won the heart of the Italian princess, — still he could bear to

* By no means " impossible," though it may not have been so in
fact. The energy and force of character which, virtuously applied,
render a man notable for good, may have caused the errors of his
youth to be equally conspicuous. History teems with examples.
—ED.

On the Cam. 191

lose them in the cause of liberty, as long as his mighty
protector, the protector of England remained. But the
Stuarts returned, and to the sting of blindness, and of
that slow but too often sure-footed guest, poverty, was
added a storm of obloquy and contumely for what they
were pleased to term heresy and treason. The Duke of
York, afterwards the last and worst of the Stuart kings,
who loved to see the Covenanters put to torture, and
stood silent while his own nephew crawled in chains to
his knees and begged for life, — delighted to expend the
energies of his narrow, superstitious, bitter mind in insults
and injuries on the poor old man. The sweet presence
of woman's love, that has so often breathed consolation
to a hundred wretched hearts, was poisoned for him by
countless trials. But all availed not to slay that immortal
soul. Blindness could not check the keenness of that vision,
to whom myriads of

" Starry lamps and blazing cressets, fed
With naphtha and asphaltus, yielded light
As from a sky," —

who beheld the angelic squadron turning fiery red at the
insults of the enemy of God. IsTo poverty could check that
boundless imagination that built up the opal towers of
heaven and adorned its battlements with living sapphire,
that laid out the walks fragrant with cassia, nard, and
balm, that raised Seleucia, Rome, and Athens, from their
ruins by the splendour of his descriptions. Servile parlia-
ments and haughty princes might revile or torture the
breaker of the golden image and the assertor of the liberty
of the press. But what cared he, who had but to dictate
five words in his majestic picture of the sun in eclipse, and
straightway monarchs were perplexed with fear of change.
The fanatical Sherlock and the bigoted San croft might fix
on him a thousand charges of heresy, but it was nothing
to him who felt himself already admitted within the veil,
and holding communion with heaven itself in the solu-

192 On the Cam.

tion of its eternal history, and its transcendent mysteries.
The frigid conceits of the past age, and the senseless bom-
bast of his own, could not break one of the thousand strings
in his heavenly harp ; the servility and fanaticism of a
whole nation could not shake one lofty and free thought in
his breast ; the bestial licentiousness of the sons of Belial
that thronged the court could not cast one spot on that
snow-like purity. All honour then to the defender of
liberty, — reverence and homage to the champion of reli-
gion. Thrice echoing shouts of glory, and ever-blooming
showers of laurel to the profound statesman, the elegant
scholar, the consummate poet, the revealer of Hell and
Heaven and Paradise ! And let no meaner name sully
our lips to-night than that of the greatest son of Cam-
bridge, John Milton.*

* Poor Charles 1 ! Unhappy Laud ! Ai'ter having served as the
favourite themes of virgin essays and speeches in England for so
many years, there seems to be a prospect of America taking them
in hand; and they are probably destined to excite unreasonable
admiration, or equally unreasonable hatred, in the breasts of pos-
terity, while the Anglo-Saxon race shall last. Yet they were very
average and respectable individuals, and it was not their faults that
they were made to represent principles. Charles I. was not a
tyrant, nor yet a martyr; he was a king who naturally wished to
retain his power, and had no idea of being made a nonentity of.
It may be all the better for us that he was the loser in the struggle;
we believe that it is : but surely it was hard enough upon him to
lose his head, without being spattered with more abuse than Xero
or Louis XI, and that throughout all ages. As for Laud, he
thought lie was upholding the interests of true religion, and his
warmest opponent can say no more for himself. — ED.

IX.

GEEAT MEN OF CAMBRIDGE SINCE 1688.

Mathematicians. — Scholars. — Divines. — Lawyers. — Statesmen. —
Authors. — Newton, Bentley, Barrow, Lyndhurst, Pitt, Ma-
caulay, and others. — Song for Cambridge.

N my last lecture I recounted to you some of
the principal great men educated at Cam-
bridge from the time of Erasmus to the time
of Milton. And I think the propriety of
thus terminating the series of the earlier
worthies at this point will readily be recognized. Milton
was one of the last educated under the old system of the
Aristotelian logic. The next generation began to turn its
attention to the new sciences, to discuss the discoveries of
Galileo and the reasonings of Kepler, and to elaborate or
refute the systems of Descartes. In the year after Milton
died, a special dispensation — the legality of which we will
not here consider — was granted by King Charles II. to
permit Isaac Newton to hold his college fellowship with-
out taking holy orders in the Church of England. New-
ton, when at the zenith of his reputation, became master
of the mint to William III, — and thus the next set of men
after Milton at once introduces us to the new order of
things, the new world created in England, by that estab-
o

194 On the Cam.

lishment of the constitution more firmly on the basis of
law, which she owes to the revolution of 1688.

In the present lecture, therefore, I shall call jour atten-
tion to the great men of Cambridge, who, though in part
educated earlier, jet nearly all flourished and made their
mark in the world between the expulsion of the Stuarts
and the present time. In a period so long and of such a
character, the method I pursued last Tuesday of dividing
the whole into generations or epochs, and showing the part
Cambridge plajed in each of them would be whollj im-
practicable. I shall, therefore, rather take up several of
the great departments of human knowledge, in which the
sons of Cambridge have excelled, and recount to jou the
services rendered in each bj her more illustrious children.

And first let us consider what Cambridge has accom-
plished in the two great divisions of learning which she
calls her own ; mathematical philosophj and classical
scholarship. And in the first of these departments the
name I have already mentioned at once places Cam-
bridge ahead of all other institutions that have made the
mathematical and physical sciences a part of their training.
In Isaac Newton all men of science are ready to recognize
their superior, and proud to be thought his pupils and fol-
lowers. Pope's well-known epigrammatic statement,

" Xature and Nature's laws lay hid in night;
God said, ' Let Xewton be,' and all was light,"

though, like all epigrams, hyperbolical, is, like all Pope's
epigrams, true, though not perhaps in exactly the author's
sense. The application of the principles of law to the pheno-
mena of nature was not originated by Newton. The ancient
mathematicians, Euclid, Archimedes, and Apollonius, —
those of the Middle Ages, Stevinus and Commandine, —
and still later, Galileo and Kepler, had made many invaluable
generalizations from most admirable experiments. The
imperfection of the early telescopes had been in part regu-
lated by the micrometer, that beautiful invention of Gas-

On the Cam. 195

coigne, the too-early lost, the youthful astronomer whose
studies were untimely broken by Marston Moor. At
Cambridge, particularly, the work had been nobly inaugu-
rated. Wallis and Barrow had all but developed the great
principles of modern mathematics, they had all but solved
the problem of the Universe. But still the laws them-
selves lay hid in night ; and till the sun arose, nothing
satisfactory, nothing certain could be told. That sun was
Newton. As soon as he appears there is a scattering of
mists and darkness, never again to gather in like force.
After him there is light, not always the light of noonday,
or of the summer solstice, nor yet a light of any magic
power that enables us to see everything just as it is, —
many of Nature's laws are yet to be known, — but yet that
light without which the most brilliant discoveries serve like
diamonds by their very brilliancy only to heighten the
surrounding darkness, in which they flash out, reflecting
the glory, and adding to it their own.

In discussing such a man as Newton, it is best at once
to speak of his discoveries in terms of perfect truth, or
even to leave points uncontested of which the truth may be
in his favour. Let us then avow freely, that his great
mathematical system was discovered by Leibnitz almost
simultaneously ; that in the opinion of many distinguished
mathematicians the theory of Leibnitz is the more philo-
sophical, and the methods pursued by him more rational
than Newton's ; that the theory of light proposed by his
contemporary Huyghens commands at the present day the
universal preference of the most distinguished savans,
unless possibly Sir David Brewster. But all this is as
nothing to the main question. Even where Newton was
erroneous or unphilosophical, his errors and his confusion
have led ultimately to higher truth and purer truth than
the barren exactitudes of others. And the great theory on
which all his discoveries depend, the law of universal at-
traction, has not only remained irrefragable, but is every
day confirmed in the most surprising manner. Again and

196 On the Cam.

again, when some new irregularity in the heavenly bodies
has caused the superficial mathematicians to declare that
now at last the Newtonian system would not hold, a closer
investigation has proved that the supposed objections were
only striking demonstrations of its truth. It is the New-
tonian theory of attraction that gives the stand-point
Archimedes sought to move the world. It is this that
verified every figure in the incomparable calculations of
Bradley, this that nerved the all-grasping sinews of the
celestial mechanic, — this that winged the thought of
Leverrier into the sightless depths of the Uranian abyss,
— this that gave our own matchless Bond the confidence
and the power to seize the fiery tresses of the trailing
wanderers, to make the rough dull cloud-mass of Orion
blaze with the sparkling glories of the perfect gem, to
unbridle the oceanic ring of Saturn from the curb the
ages had thrown over it. And if the time should ever
come, — and who, considering the infinity of creation and
the might of science, shall say it will not come ? — when a
system of the Universe is demonstrated in whose mighty
generalizations Newton's is a mere special case, still shall
grateful learning pay honour to the rising sun that shone
through the mists of her natal hour, still shall Cambridge
do honour to her noblest son, trained by her counsels,
nurtured in her walls, honoured by her culture.

It is no vain boast that Newton was trained at Cam-
bridge. Had he other masters than Barrow, he might
have waited long for his discoveries ; but Barrow, and his
great contemporary, Wallis, had already brought mathe-
matics to such a state, that the Newtonian discoverers
must come soon. Contemporary with Newton at Cam-
bridge was Flamstead, the first astronomer royal, and the
great illustrator of the laws of the tides, and Roger Cotes,
a name too little known in the world, but appreciated by
all mathematicians, of whom Newton himself said, " If he
had lived, we might have known something." At a later
period we find the blind mathematician, Saunderson, Vince,

On the Cam. 197

and Taylor, who added many important formulae to prac-
tical calculations. Still later, occur the names of Wood
and Peacock, hated by youthful students in Algebra ; of
Sir John Herschel, the worthy son of a worthy father ; of
the astronomers royal, Maskelyne and Airy, — and, finally,
in our own time, of that wonderful genius, John Couch
Adams, who, in the same year as Leverrier, made precisely
similar calculations on his own account, demonstrating the
existence of another member of the solar system.

And then in the other chosen branch of Cambridge
studies, the Classical Literatures and Languages. If our
age begins with the prince of mathematicians, it also begins
with the prince of scholars. Never since Greek learning
was revived, not in Erasmus, its great parent, — or More
and Cheke, his coadjutors, — or Casaubon, the patient stu-
dent,— or Spanheirn and Grsevius, the elegant imitators ; —
not in Wolf, the arch heretic, nor Hermann, the all-cor-
recting, nor Lobeck, the omnivorous, — never, perhaps,
except in the unmeasured learning and magnificent intel-
ligence of Scaliger, has been found such a scholar as
Richard Bentley. He was one of those men to whom
ordinary Greek and Latin is like a child's primer, and
who has only a slight chance of making a mistake when
he comes to those tremendous passages where all the con-
centrated obscurity of the author is darkened tenfold by
all the diffused stupidity of the copyists. In his hands
the vast mass of rough and unexplored Greek literature,
which men had been content to pass by as hopeless, be-
came a great mine of rich jewels, which indeed needed
labour to dig, to wash, to polish, but which repaid that
labour by a lustre far more glorious than those of the well-
known pebbles to be found in every river's bed.

Richard Bentley was a member of St. John's College,
Cambridge. In the latter part of the seventeenth century
he was involved in what the learned know as the " Phala-
ris " controversy with some of the young wits of England,
which resulted in a nominal and temporary success of his

198 On the Cam.

adversaries, but really and ultimately in the establishment
of Dr. Bentley as the greatest of English scholars ; and if
he only did justice to himself, one of the greatest of Eng-
lish wits and critics. In this discussion, he was brought
into collision with Atterbury, Swift, and the other wits,
and they communicated their enmity to Pope, who has
filled whole pages with abuse of Bentley, a little more
virulent and a little less true than Pope's satire generally
is. The reputation thus acquired procured Bentley the
appointment from the crown of Master of Trinity College ;
as there is only a single wall of brick between Trinity and
his own college of St. John, he is reported to have quoted
somewhat profanely, " By the help of God I have leapt
over a wall." Though not originally a member of it,
his whole soul and energy were given to the college of his
adoption, but his ideas for increasing it provoked the re-
sentment of the existing fellows, particularly Dr. Conyers
Middleton, the author of the Life of Cicero. He was
at once involved in new controversy with them, wherein
his excessively imperious and overbearing temper doubtless
did him no good ; but which ended in his appeal from the
petty jealousies and scholastic insolence of the University
to the justice of the king and council being triumphantly
sustained, and now, while Conyers Middleton's servile
biography of Cicero is daily less and less esteemed, and
his really valuable theological essays are hardly read, his
rival is rising every day in the reputation of scholars, as
the great founder of classical criticism.

Second to Bentley, but second to him alone, is Richard
Porson. This glorious interpreter of the Greek drama,
gifted with memory, with wit, with acuteness, with vigour
beyond almost any man, who, if he had no other merit,
would be immortal from the beauty of his Greek manu-
script, is a lamentable instance of transcendent powers
joined to almost irresistible failings. Porson was probably
the brightest wit in a generation of humourists, and the
hardest drinker in a generation of drunkards. He would

On the Cam. 199

drink anything, even the alcohol set aside to fill a lamp.
This at once plunged him into debt and sloth, from which
even the necessity of earning his bread hardly extricated
him. Had William Pitt — a Cambridge man and a devoted
friend of the Greek classics — done his duty by literature
and given Person a pension, he might have been raised from
the necessity of associating with hack-writers, and his
orgies deprived of half their coarseness, or perchance broken
up for ever. But in spite of poverty, of idleness, of vice,
the splendour of his wit, the soundness of his mind, the
sweetness of his disposition, have left to those who study
him attentively a memory they must love while they cen-
sure. His researches in the ancient drama have placed
the whole criticism of its masters, so difficult yet so delight-
ful, on a new basis, while his letters to Travis have demon-
strated beyond power of refutation that the so-called
" proof-text " so often cited, viz. 1 John v. 7, has noplace
whatever in the Bible.

A little prior to Porson was another great Cambridge
scholar, a perfect mine of erudition, the learned Samuel
Parr. Had Dr. Parr devoted himself wholly to what he
was best adapted for, namely, the editing of the classics,
he might have made himself a great name. But in an evil
hour he made it his business to be a great conversationist,
like Johnson, whom he imitated in little but rudeness. Yet
some good jokes are told of him. He was once present at
a dinner in company with Sir James Mackintosh, whom
Parr and his party always accused of apostacy from the true
cause of liberty. The conversation turned on the Irish
rebels of '98, and Mackintosh said of one of them, "He
was the worst of men." Parr looked fixedly at him,
and in a spiteful voice, almost unintelligible from a pecu-
liar lisp, hissed out, " No, Sir James, he was a very bad
man, but he was not the worst of men. He was an Irish-
man, he might have been a Scotchman ; he was a priest,
he might have been a lawyer ; he was a traitor, Sir James,
he might have been an apostate."

200 On the Cam.

It is to the exertions of Cambridge men that we owe
that accurate and beautiful knowledge of the spirit of
Greek poetry that so distinguishes the English scholars.
They not only understand how to sift the endless chaff of
German erudition from the wheat, and to work up the
latter into the purest flour, but to flavour the bread of
learning with an ambrosial gusto all their own. The
names of Dobree, of Elmsley, of Monk, of Blakesley, of
Long, of Paley, of Thompson, of Mtmro, of Vaughan, of
Lyttelton, of Merivale, are familiar to all scholars as those
of accurate, of elegant, of acute interpreters of the trea-
sures of ancient lore.

Next to the study of the learned languages and mathe-
matics, unquestionably the greatest attention is paid at
Cambridge to Theology. In the period selected for this
evening, the greatest name as well as the first is that of
Isaac Barrow, the preceptor of Newton. Distinguished in
the early part of his life for his mathematical skill, his
fame now rests on his theological works, and chiefly his
sermons. I might do worse to-night than stop my lecture
and read you a sermon of Barrow ; but without going that
length, let me advise any young preacher, who thinks his
last discourse, intended for some special occasion, has
completely used up the subject, to take down his grand-
father's old copy of Barrow's sermons, only to find every
one of his own thoughts much better expressed, and a great
deal more he never dreamed of, and all penetrated by a
combination of intellectual mastery, of chastened eloquence,
and of pure Christian holiness, that must carry conviction
to the hearts of even such godless audiences as Barrow
was wont to address.

In Barrow's own time, the popular preference was de-
cidedly given to Tillotson. His sermons, though now less
read, deserve to be revived for the exquisite spirit of love
and gentleness breathing through them all. When Tillot-
son died, William III, not given to demonstration, and
not fond of Englishmen, wrote to his most intimate corre-

On the Cam. 201

spondent, that he had " lost the best friend he ever had
and the best man he ever knew." Cambridge is proud to
rank Tillotson of her sons.

In the same age are Pearson, whose treatise on the
Creed is held to be a chief stone of the foundation of
English theology; Cudworth, the author of a vigorous
intellectual system, and Burnet, of the " Theory of the
Earth," the latter renowned also as a devoted friend of
liberty ; the eloquent and virtuous bishops, Stillingfleet
and Beveridge, Patrick and Tenison ; the grave and pious
Calamy ; Lightfoot, the greatest English Orientalist ; and
Jeremy Collier, who, in spite of his bigotry and his absur-
dity, deserves the thanks of all lovers of literature and
morality, for having been the first to strike a blow at the
impurity of the English drama. But, perhaps, none of
all these is so entitled to the respect and love of Christians
as one who, though belonging to an earlier generation,
may well be considered the father of Christian instruction
in modern England, whose books are daily republished as
surpassing all others in the value of their precepts and
consolations, the sainted Jeremy Taylor.

In the next century the list of Cambridge divines is
swelled by Sherlock and Hoadley, fellow-students and
fellow-bishops ; Horsley, one of the most energetic contro-
versialists and one of the best of men ; Samuel Clarke, so
long the leader of the liberal theologians ; and Paley, who,
though his Moral Philosophy is justly superseded, and his
Hora3 Paulina is fast giving way to better books, must
stand for ever as an honest, a vigorous, and a pious
opponent of the sloth and infidelity wherein the religion of
England appeared irredeemably plunged.

In the last two generations the divines of Cambridge
have not fallen from the reputation of their predecessors ;
but I omit their consideration till a later lecture, when I
shall discuss the whole subject of the connection of Cam-
bridge with the Church of England.

Next in estimation to the profession of Divinity, un-

202 On the Cam.

doubtedlj stands that of Law. The science of the laws of
England formed no part of the instruction at Cambridge
till Sir George Downing included in his gifts to Downing
College a professorship of the laws of England. Civil law,
as I have already explained, formed an important branch
of Cambridge study. But although not directly connected
with the University, the Inns of Court, in London, where
chiefly the Law was and is studied, always accorded great
privileges to persons coming from the University, shorten-
ing the time required for residence to such as had taken
the Master's or Bachelor's degrees. And in England, as
here, the best training for the legal studies has always, and
rightly, been considered to be the education given at col-
lege. A distinguished member of the English bench, who
had himself taken the highest honours of his year at
Cambridge, admonished his young nephew, who proposed
studying there, that he must " be sure and get a Wrang-
lership," such an unfailing prestige did it give among the
retaining attornies to have stood high at the Universities.
About the time of the revolution of 1688, the Attorney-
General, Sir Eobert Sawyer, one of the ablest of all the
English counsel, was a son of Cambridge, and represented
her in Parliament. From his time there has always been
a supply of distinguished members of the Inns of Court
from Cambridge ; — the virtuous Camden, the faithful friend
of Chatham ; the unfortunate Charles Yorke, who put an
end to his own life the day after he had received the wool-
sack on which his father had sat before him ; and that
truly Christian knight, Sir Eardley Wilmot, whose modesty
shrank from the honours of the great seal. Two chancel-
lors of still greater fame join the list, — Edward Thurlow
and Thomas Erskine. Thurlow, it may well be supposed,
was a sadly unruly member of the University. It may not
be amiss to recall some of the anecdotes of his college
course which Lord Campbell has preserved. For ex-
ample : — There was a stringent law at Cambridge against
any garments except those of a black or " subfusk " hue ;

On the Cam. 203

and especially against any cuffs of a gay colour being
attached to the coat. Thurlow was reprimanded for trans-
gressing this rule. He denied the charge altogether.
"What, sir," said the college functionary, indignantly,
•; am I not to believe my own eyes?" " No, sir," said the
future chancellor ; and. stripping off his coat, showed that
the sleeves, terminating in the gay cuffs, were attached to
the waistcoat. On another occasion, the dean of the col-
lege imposed upon him as a punishment, — according to
& practice given up entirely at Cambridge, but not wholly
at Oxford,— to translate a paper of the Spectator into
Greek. Thurlow performed the task with a good deal of
skill ; but, instead of taking it to the dean, who was not
a very learned man, took it to one of the tutors, a splendid
Greek scholar. This was considered a piece of imperti-
nence ; and being interrogated by the body of the autho-
rities as to his excuse, he replied : " Sir, I have all possible
respect for the dean, and therefore took my imposition to
the tutor, as a person who could inform him whether or
not I had done the task satisfactorily." For this exquisite
piece of insolence no punishment seemed suited, rustication
being too lenient, and expulsion too severe ; but, in com-
pliance with the advice of the tutor, Thurlow voluntarily
left the University. I refer you to Lord Campbell's
" Lives " for the sequel to the story, which shows that
Thnrlow, though a perfect bear, had a good heart as well
as a sound head. I own more authentic anecdotes quite
refute the supposition.

The advantages which Lord Erskine derived from Cam-
bridge were peculiar. It was after having tried unsuccess-
fully both branches of the service that he determined to go
to the bar. Any one who had taken a University degree
could be called to the bar in three years, instead of five,
after entering the Inns of Court.* Erskine, therefore, en-

* Any one, whether a graduate or not, can now be called in three
years, and the ancient privilege is therefore void. — ED.

204 On the Cam.

tered his name, and kept his rooms, at Trinity College,
Cambridge; and, being the son of an earl, was admitted
to his degree after two years' residence, and without an
examination. This privilege of the nobility is now dis-
used ; but it might well have been continued if it were
always the means of smoothing the passage to legal
honours of such a man as Erskine, the most consummate
forensic orator of the age, and one of the truest friends of
liberty that ever lived.

Another most eminent lawyer, who owed his education
to Cambridge, was the great Ellenborough. His profi-
ciency was such that he was expected to take the first
honours of his year in both classics and mathematics. He
was disappointed in the latter, being only third wrangler,
instead of senior ; but he was easily first in the classical
department ; and thus continued the fame of his family,
his father and two brothers having all three graduated with
distinction at Cambridge, and all three risen to bishoprics.
Many years after, when the examinations had much in-
creased in difficulty, Sir E. H. Alderson, afterwards greatly
distinguished as an Exchequer judge, actually obtained the
highest honours of his year in all the possible subjects of
competition, — a case of which only three instances have
ever occurred since the records begin in 1752. Two other
renowned lawyers, Bickersteth, afterwards Lord Langdale,
and Sir Frederick Pollock, whose recent decision in the
Alexandra case has rather shaken the value placed by
Americans on his legal acumen, obtained the highest
mathematical honours of their respective years. Cam-
bridge also was the mother of a judge, now retired from
the bench, but esteemed as few ever have been, and espe-
cially honourable for his steady friendship for America —
the learned and virtuous Parke, Lord Wensleydale. And
finally, within the last few months, his friends and relatives
in Boston have received the melancholy tidings of the loss
of one of the most distinguished English lawyers and
orators, the veteran among them all, who, at the age of

On the Cam. 205

eighty-eight, when scarce able to move, still could protest
in Parliament against the supineness of younger leaders, —
the faithful and honoured child of Cambridge, the son of
the distinguished artist, whose speaking portraits are
among the choicest decorations of our mansions and halls,
the Boston boy, John Singleton Copley, Lord Lyndhurst.

But there are two callings, which, in the end, will
arrest the attention of the world, and show the value of
education, above all others. The profession of arms, in-
deed, may, for a few years, be all-important, and its
heroes may stand highest in the world's opinion ; but it is
for a few years only. We ourselves, who are at this mo-
ment offering our richest treasure and our best blood to
the god of war, do so because we hope by these offerings
to secure generations wherein a free and united nation
may exercise the arts of peace. It is to Statesmanship
and to Literature that we must look to know if Cambridge
has done her part for England and the world. I have
already given proofs of her pre-eminence as a trainer of
politicians and authors in the earlier times ; but the annals
of her later age will equally show that she has never
failed to yield her quota of those who rule the state of
England, and form the mind of her people.

The greatest real statesman at the time of the English
revolution was beyond all question Sir William Temple.
It is not to be supposed that he understood all the turns of
an English parliamentary contest as well as Halifax or
Shaftesbury ; but he alone understood what was the true
position England should occupy in the family of nations,
and he alone had the adroitness to carry through a treaty
by which this position might be secured. He was too
timorous and too selfish to be a great man ; but when he
chose to forget himself in his country, or rather when he
could do his country service without endangering himself,
he performed services of really great value, without ruin-
ing her either by his ambition or his avarice ; — and the side
he espoused has received the subsequent commendation of

206 On the Cam.

all true patriots and wise men. He was a member of
Emmanuel College, Cambridge.

But the next generation was to develope a race of
statesmen, perhaps even superior to Temple in ability, and
at all events, far before him in spirit, in generosity, in
energy. No statesman of the reign of William III, not
even Somers himself, showed such marvellous genius for
founding a new national glory on the ruins of the old as
Charles Montague. He was one of the earliest pupils of
Newton at Cambridge, and originally looked forward to
little more than the life of a college fellow or a country
rector. But the Revolution, that brought forward all the
talent of the Whig party, called Montague from his retire-
ment. His inventive genius, sharpened by the differential
calculus and the dynamics of a particle, threw itself into
the mysteries of finance with an energy that startled the
old exchequer-men. When the credit of the crown was
shaken to the utmost, and Louis XIV. was congratulating
himself that the last piece of gold must win, Montague
brought it up from the dust, by the then novel expedient of
creating a funded debt, and issuing treasury notes, an in-
teresting precedent for ourselves.* In a still darker hour
he created the Bank of England, an act alone entitling
him to the highest praise as a wise statesman ; and finally,
when the whole country was tottering under a debased
currency, his admirable system of recoinage revived and
strengthened it as it never had been strong before. And
here was shown the wisdom of the man ; he knew that the
best man at a college will, other things being equal, be
the best out of it, that he who can calculate the thickness
of a soap-bubble to the millionth of an inch, could calcu-
late how many million shillings the mint could issue in a
day ; and the complete success of the recoinage is chiefly
due to his filling the place of master of the mint by Sir
Isaac Newton.

* Highly; and we hope our cousins will never regret having fol-
lowed it. — ED.

On the Cam. 207

Just as Montague felt that the Parliamentary sceptre he
had earned so well and held so long was quivering in his
grasp, the House of Commons received a new member,
also from Cambridge, whose original ideas, like those of
Montague, had been to remain all his life a country cler-
gyman, with some assistance from his college. But the
death of his elder brother, and his marriage with the
daughter of a rich city magnate, procured him a seat in
Parliament. For a few years he was engaged in the in-
judicious prosecution of the foolish Sacheverell, and the
prominence he took therein never ceased till he became
Prime Minister, till he became all but sole minister, till he
had silenced opposition so long that men recurred to it
merely for variety, till having begun Parliamentary life in
opposition to Bolingbroke, he ended it in opposition to
Chatham ; till he and his great rival, Pulteney, having
had all eyes concentrated on their Titanic contests for
years, sank into the obscurity of high rank ; till in the
year that the Highlands and the Continent burst into one
furious blaze, the grave closed over Kobert AValpole.

In the year in which Walpole died, the Lord-Lieuten-
ancy of Ireland, one of the most important offices in the
gift of the crown, and attended with some privileges
known to no other, was given to another graduate of Cam-
bridge, Philip Stanhope, Earl of Chesterfield. We are
accustomed to think of Lord Chesterfield only as a model
of politeness ; as the supercilious patron that excited the
enmity of Johnson ; as the author of a volume of letters
dictated apparently by fashionable infidelity. Such may
be all the legacy he could leave, but such is far too little
in justice to his life. The same sweet grace of manner,
the same soft tones of voice that captivated the drawing-
rooms, rose in Parliament to the very heights of eloquence ;
the same dignity which knew how to maintain the place of
a gentleman in all circles taught him how to hold high
office till the arrogance of the minister allowed it no
longer, and then to part with it only to receive it back

208 On the Cam.

when Walpole was no more. And what may appear to us
through the mist of a century but the airs of a courtier,
were in truth the adroitness of a diplomat and the ability
of a statesman. It is enough glory for one man to be
considered the best lord-lieutenant of Ireland through all
the last century.

Chesterfield died at the age of seventy-nine, in the year
1773. In that same year a sickly boy of fourteen was
entered at Pembroke College in Cambridge. His feeble
frame, unable to bear the hardships of a public school, had
been scarcely sustained by inordinate doses of port wine,
not generally employed as a medicine by the Englishmen
of that period. At college he was not only unusually
skilled in mathematical science, but a consummate master
of ancient literature. Shy, retiring, implicitly regular in
his devotion to all college requirements, he seemed the
very man to end his days as tutor of his college, with per-
haps the prospect, if he lived long enough, of becoming
its master. But the feeble-framed youth strangely enough
resolved to quit this life of academic ease so well suited to
him, and study law. Nor did he appear to have made a
mistake. Some friends of his father's, particularly the
great Dunning, complimented him highly on the success
of his maiden pleas. Relying too much on his precocity
and his descent from an earl, he ventured — such is the
audacity of youth — to offer himself as a candidate for Par-
liament from the University of Cambridge, when only
twenty-one. It may be supposed such a demand was at
once rejected by the magnates of learning. How did they
feel when only three years later they saw the sickly boy,
at the age of twenty-four, Prime Minister of England,
and heard the whole nation ringing with shouts of praise
at the lofty eloquence, the acute management, the un-
daunted bearing of William Pitt the younger !

Yes, Pitt is a true son of Cambridge. No mere nominal
member like Erskine, no unruly scapegrace like Thurlow,
no unwilling and disgusted student like Bacon, but faith-

On the Cam. 209

ful, diligent, regular, till the licentious aige made his virtue
a laughing stock. It was from his Thucydides and his
Conic Sections that he learned to rule the Parliament and
encourage the nation. Poor, proud, haughty, youthful,
he secured the personal respect of all classes of English-
men, such as was never accorded to Walpole or Pelham,
or even his great father ; he defied the desperate fury of
France under Carnot, and the concentrated magnificence
of France under Napoleon ; his very name was for years a
mystical bugbear to the Jacobins, for generations a mythical
watchword to the Tories. And now that senseless hatred
and senseless love are alike passing away, the great son of
Cambridge shall shine forth year after year the parent of
reform, the abhorrer of the slave-trade, the friend of reli-
gious liberty, the splendid orator, the undaunted patriot,
the incorruptible minister. After not only Pitt had passed
away, but also the modern Hannibal himself, whose vic-
tory at Austerlitz had slain, together with thirty thousand
troops of the allies, the great Englishman whose counsels
moved them, Lord Byron, not politically a friend of Pitt,
pronounced on him and his great Parliamentary rival a
sentence which should be remembered by all who would
exalt the present at the expense of the past.

" Reader, remember, when thou wert a lad,
That Pitt was all, — or, if not all, so much
His very rival almost deemed him such.
We, we have seen the intellectual race
Of giants stand, like Titans face to face,—
Athos and Ida, with a dashing sea
Of eloquence between, which flowed all free
As the deep billows of the Mgean roar
Betwixt the Hellenic and the Phrygian shore.
But where are they, — the rivals ? A few feet
Of sullen earth divide each winding sheet."

Nor can I, in closing this section of my lecture, omit to
call your attention to a son of Cambridge, who, called into
political life at the time of Pitt's death, continued in it
over fifty years with the respect of his rivals, the admira-

210 On the Cam.

tion of his allies, the devotion and love of his friends, —
who, such was the confidence in his abilities and his pro-
bity, was constantly included in the cabinet by special
preference, after all the offices were assigned ; who, gifted
with rank, with wealth, with talent, with power, won to
himself a yet richer glory by being the constant fosterer of
genius, the patron of literature, the friend of his country,
the loyal child of his University, and left, when he died, in
extreme old age, preserving his intellectual energy to the
end, no name more honoured in England than that of
Henry Petty, Marquis of Lansdowne. ,

But it is to the devotees of literature, the essayists, the
historians, the poets, that every nation looks for her most
lasting honour, and every college for her brightest glory.
"When Milton died in poverty and obscurity, leaving his
great works to posterity, there was perhaps but one man,
and he a Cambridge man, who had both the ability and
the will to come to anything like a just appreciation of
their value. He could do it, because, though a loyalist, he
was no bigot, — because, though a sovereign of literature,
he did not " bear, like the Turk, no brother near the throne."
Above all, he could do it because he was a poet himself.
This was John Dryden, — " Glorious John," as his con-
temporaries loved to call him, who still, though times and
manners and tastes have changed, must preserve the ad-
miration of all real lovers of stirring thoughts set forth in
sounding verse. I know his rhymed tragedies are fustian
and bombast, — I know in the delineation of character he
falls far short, I do not say of Shakespeare, but of Nat
Lee, Southerne, Congreve, — I know his religious poems
are more absurd than that of Lucretius, and his panegyrics
more fulsome than those of Southey. But let any one,
however prepossessed in favour of the ultra modern or
ultra antique poetry, read through nineteen of his lines,
with all their conceits, their bombast, their nonsense, and
the twentieth shall burst upon him, stirring his heart like
the sound of a trumpet, with its sonorous melody, its kind-

On the Cam. 211

ling energy, its manly plainness, and above all by its
pure native nervous English. For in his management of
our noble old language, Dryden knew, as no other man
knew or knows, how to sound the deeps and mount the
heights of poetry, with scarce a line that a rustic could not
follow, or that a Bentley would not praise. When all the
nerveless jingle of the past age, and all the tortured vul-
garisms of the present are extinct in oblivion, the mighty
strains of Dryden shall still sound a clarion pealing through
the ages. There is no one from whom I could read to
you with more satisfaction than Dryden, but I must con-
tent myself with a very few lines, a part of his transla-
tion of the noblest passage in Latin poetry. Listen to
them, Americans, as addressed to you, — for you are to
inherit the glory of the nations.

" But, Rome, 'tis thine alone with sceptred sway
To rule mankind, and make the world obey,
Controlling peace and war, thine own majestic way.
To tame the proud, the fettered slave to free,
These are imperial arts, and worthy thee."

Immediately succeeding Dryden are two poets, one the
most successful tragedian of his age, indeed the best since
Shakespeare, poor Otway, who finally died from the reac-
tion of a sudden supply of food arriving too late to save him
from starvation ; and Matthew Prior, who, with not half
the genius of Otway, was placed in several very important
diplomatic posts, and lived in the richest and best* com-
pany for many years. They were fellow-students at St.
John's College, Cambridge.

The best poem of Prior's is a satire on Boileau's bom-
bastic ode on the siege of Namur. In the next generation,
a son of Cambridge introduced, with exquisite humour, a
veteran of that siege as the prominent person in the finest
specimen of English prose wit that appeared between
Gulliver's Travels and the Vicar of Wakefield. And

* And worst. — ED.

212 On the Cam.

every year is adding new laurels and new plagiarists* to
the captivating works of Laurence Sterne.

In the year after the admission of Sterne to Cambridge
its gates opened to receive another guest, the painful side
of whose college life I have already portrayed to you, —
Thomas Gray. I need not enlarge to an audience like
this on the merits of his poetry. The same fastidiousness
that disgusted him with the rude mirth of Peterhouse,
refined and polished his poems to the last pitch of elegance
and beauty. Tantalizing us by writing so little, and still
more by the lovely fragments that he left incomplete, he
has yet given to the world a few pieces absolutely perfect
of their kind, and I cannot resist reading to you his noble
description of academic duty and pleasure, the exordium
of the ode from which I quoted in my first lecture : —

" Hence ! avaunt ! 'tis holy ground !

Comus and his midnight crew,
And Ignorance, with looks profound,

And dreaming Sloth of pallid hue,
Mad Sedition's cry profane,
Servitude that hugs her chain ;
Nor, in these consecrated bowers,
Let painted Flattery hide her serpent train in flowers,
Nor Envy base, nor creeping Gain
Dare the Muses' walk to stain,
While bright-eyed Science watches round,
Hence, away, 'tis holy ground."

In the same year with Gray, there entered at Cam-
bridge his intimate friend, the celebrated Horace Walpole,
whose eccentric talent has preserved to us so much curious
and valuable information of his own time ; and in the year
after Gray's Elegy was published, the wayward genius
of Churchill sought admission at Cambridge, but he never
resided there.

Horace Walpole died in honour, wealth, and peace, con-

* We are somewhat at a loss to understand this allusion. The
opening chapters of " The Caxtons " form the only approach to an
imitation of " Tristram Shandy " that we can remember. — ED.

On the Cam, 213

siderably over eighty years of age, in 1797. In the next
year, the coronet of a long line of ancestors, whose fate
seemed a tissue of madness, slaughter, and sorrow, de-
scended upon that brilliant, wayward, ill-starred son of
Cambridge, George Gordon, Lord Byron of Newstead.

This is not the place for a discussion in full of the
character and writings of Lord Byron. The taste of the
immediate generation is turning from his poetry, as it does
also from that of Scott. But we cannot judge of a poet by
the taste either of his own age or that immediately following.
The time has doubtless ceased when Lord Byron is to be
the model for all young men to imitate in their manage-
ment of verses or reverses. But I trust the time has also
gone by when his poems are to be shelved contemptuously
as wanting in vigour, originality, and sweetness of diction,
— or his character sent with a curse from society as his
statue was from Westminster Abbey. To those who spurn
alike the man and his works I have nothing to say. To
those who can love and forgive, I commend the last stan-
zas he ever wrote, — composed on his thirty-sixth birthday,
on that distant shore where in less than a year he died.
They are all noble, but I select the last four.

" Awake — not Greece — she is awake !

Awake, my spirit ! think through whom
Thy life-blood tracks its parent lake,

And then strike home !
Tread those reviving passions clown,
Unworthy manhood ! Unto thee
Indifferent should the smile or frown

Of beauty be.
If thou regret'st thy youth, why live ?

The land of honourable death
Is here ! Up to the field, and give

Away thy breath.

Seek out, less often sought than found,
A soldier's grave, — for thee the best;
Then look around, and choose thy ground,
And take thy rest."

Two of the poets with whom Byron quarrelled all his

214 On the Cam.

life, though he had more points of resemblance with them
than he would have allowed,* were sons of Cambridge,
William Wordsworth, and Samuel Taylor Coleridge. The
life and the poetry of both are familiar to every one here,
but I cannot resist extracting a sonnet of Wordsworth's,
on the noble picture by Holbein of Henry VIII, in the
Master's Lodge at Trinity, for it is precisely the thought
that every loyal son of Cambridge has of the stern old
monarch.

"The imperial stature, the colossal stride
Are yet before me ; yet do I behold
The broad full visage, chest of amplest mould,
The vestments broidered with barbaric pride ;
And lo ! a poniard at the monarch's side
Hangs ready to be grasped in sympathy
With the keen threatenings of that fulgent eye,
Below the white-rimmed bonnet far descried.
Who trembles now at thy capricious mood?
'Mid those surrounding worthies, haughty king,
We rather think with grateful mind sedate,
How Providence educeth, from the spring
Of lawless will, unlooked-for streams of good,

% Which neither force shall check, nor time abate."

I should weary you, my friends, were I to attempt to
relate all the ingenious, the eloquent, the learned writers
that have gone forth from these ancient halls. Take one
of the last of them as a picture of what a great institution
can do, what a faithful pupil can be. In the same year
that Lord Byron closed his brilliant and fitful career.
Trinity College admitted into her society Thomas Babing-
ton Macaulay, and throughout his life he lost no oppor-
tunity,— and who had more or better? — of exalting the
name and honour of his dear Alma Mater. I cannot enter

* We wish that the lecturer had found an opportunity of illus-
trating this idea, which never struck us. Byron's best style is
startling, epigrammatic, and scornful ; Wordsworth's, soft, calm,
philosophic ; Coleridge's, weird, musical, and dreamy. — En.

On the Cam. 215

here into a discussion of his merits or quote from his works.
I cannot even, what I should gladly do, pronounce a
panegyric upon him. For when, after long, long years of
eager expectation, I was at last admitted to his acquaint-
ance, and to gaze on that face which seemed to have been
at my side from infancy, the interview, too short, though
he accorded to me his kindest words and his richest stores
of intellectual wealth, was but thirteen days before the
news fell upon England like a thunder-clap that he was no
more. Fellow-citizens, think what you will of the histo-
rian, set up, if you will, your knowledge against his, the
most vast and profound erudition of the age, but dare not
think that there ever lived a loftier intellect, a nobler love
of right and freedom, a purer soul, a tenderer heart, than
animated the clay that now lies at the feet of his beloved
Addison in the Poets' Corner.

Such, my friends, is a list, most fragmentary, most im-
perfect, of a few of the great men of Cambridge. Is not
such a line of sons an honour to any institution, and is the
institution that can send forth such sons not entitled to our
heartiest and warmest praises ? O, believe it ! Those
ancient halls still keep pure the sacred flame. The ap-
pointed ministers feed it with purest food and guard it
with unremitting care ; and year after year there go forth
from it the noblest children of a noble race, to strive, to
suffer, to conquer, in the cause of right and justice, for the
sake of the dear old mother, so kind, so true, so generous.
If you can bear, after hearing some specimens of the
finest poets of England, to listen to the feeble strains of
Apollo's humblest votary, let your hearts rise with mine
in a

SONG FOE CAMBRIDGE.

All hail, thou mother of our sires !
Hail, home of learning, pure and free !
Thou altar, whence the sacred fires
Have leapt to us across the sea !

216 On the Cam.

E'en as they knew thee, still the same
Our hearts would know thee now ;

Still rest the glory on thy name,
The laurel round thy brow.

0 home, where Bacon's eagle sight
Saw realms of wonder from afar;
Whence Newton's lamp of heavenly light
Streamed through the ages like a star ;
Where seraphs brought the hallowed fire

That blazed in Milton's song, —
Whence hosts have struck the prophet's lyre,
Or swelled the statesman's throng ; —

0 halls where virtue's armies true
Have seen their fight with sin begun ;
Where freedom's flag, of gorgeous hue,
Is handed on from sire to son ;
Where ancient Honour ne'er shall fail

Though Shame and Falsehood frown ;
Where holy Truth shall aye prevail
To crush confusion down; —

O take our greeting ! from the sons
Of those that left thee for the wild !
Still in our veins the current runs
That kindled then each pious child.
And still for all thy triumphs past,

In all thy strife to come,
God's love and grace on thee be cast,
Our fathers' honoured home !

X.

DRAWBACKS OF THE CAMBRIDGE LIFE.

Favourable Opinion heretofore expressed. — Abuses and Extortions
by Servants. — Expense of Living. — Position of the Aristocracy.
— Hardships of Average Men and Advantages of Specialists. —
Strong Nationality of the University.

my lectures hitherto I have endeavoured to
describe to you the present condition, and,
as far as the mention of distinguished names
can indicate, some of the past history of the
University of Cambridge. We have gone
through the objects, means, and impulses of study, the
daily and exceptional life of its undergraduates, and the
history of some of its more celebrated pupils. If you were
actually with me at Cambridge, we should very probably,
after such a walk round the colleges as I described to you
in my seventh lecture, retire to my rooms in the Old Court
of Trinity, and, while the fountain plashed unceasingly,
and the old clock struck out every quarter of an hour, sit
down and talk over what we had seen. We may very
appropriately do something of the same kind here, and
having passed nine evenings together in using our eyes
about Cambridge, employ three to think over what and
where she is in her relations to England, to the world, and
to the general interests of Truth and Learning.

But in the same way that, in taking a real walk, we
do not confine ourselves to the mere contemplation of the

218 On the Cam.

objects, but likewise to the discussion of them, it has been
impossible for me to avoid interspersing my description of
Cambridge institutions with some reflections on their-value.
Nor have I been careful in this matter to refrain from
hearty commendation. I have lived at Cambridge not as
an outsider, but a member of its very inmost system,
and I could no more give you a cold, uninterested account
here, than I could take a walk through its halls with you
like another stranger. Nor would you expect it. You
would not think it right, that any man should, of his own
choice, against the wishes and preferences of many friends,
deliberately connect himself for over three years with an
institution, and leave it with no more respect and love than
a stranger.

Hence I do not seek to excuse or defend the praises I
have at various points in these lectures accorded. I do
believe that the Cambridge studies have been well selected
originally, and added to judiciously, — that the means of
study are in their design wise, and in their operation
thorough, — that the course pursued with the different
classes of undergraduates is far superior to that at most
other Universities with which I am acquainted, — that
the estimation in which scholarship and the rewards and
incentives to scholarship are held, is more philosophic in
theory and infinitely more generous in practice than that
to which we are accustomed. For the life of the young
men, I do not know that it is more thoroughly enjoyed
than college life is anywhere else.* I suppose the un-

, * If students at Oxford or Cambridge have a joy unknown to
the American, it probably consists in that air of romance and
poetry which clings to the old cloisters, converts the rooms into
something different from all other apartments, divests the com-
monest things of their vulgarity, gives a peculiar zest to pleasure,
and robs work of half its sting. The freshman feels, on first going
up, as if he were a character in one of Sir Walter Scott's novels,
and the sensation is indescribably pleasant. But alas, it soon
wears off with use ; and work proves to be work, though medieval

On the Cam. 219

dergraduate always has the perfection of enjoyment as
far as a mortal can look for it. But I do helieve that at
Cambridge it proceeds on a more rational basis, and is
tempered with far less jealousy and heart-burnings than
that life we are so proud of at our colleges. In particu-
lar, I think that the whole problem of the proper combi-
nation of study and exercise has been better solved, though
not perfectly, than anywhere else. Lastly, I believe that
the character of the graduates at Cambridge, who have
distinguished themselves in public or private life, speaks
in the highest terms for the quality of the education given
there, and more particularly for the spirit of liberality and
progress which they seem to draw in from the thick and
dank atmosphere of the Cam.

If I were to rest my judgment here, — if I were only
to give you such opinions of a commendatory strain, with
occasional touches of the ludicrous, as have presented
themselves in the course of our examination, I should
leave you with a most incorrect idea of what I thought,
and probably a very erroneous view of the subject itself.
I have urged the merits of Cambridge, and I hope to
have a still further opportunity to urge them the more
strongly, because I know that there are certain faults in
its system, which it would be alike unjust and ungenerous
to other institutions to slur over or omit. It was my hap-
piness, before going to Cambridge, to pass four years at
our own matchless college, and hence, having an equality
of filial interest at the two Cambridges, I am impelled to
seek out the virtues of either as having belonged to it,
and the faults of either as having belonged to the other.
I should be very sorry to have you think I endorsed an
institution in which I constantly found much to reprehend,
— and in particular, I should be exceedingly sorry if any

scholars did undergo it in the same room ; and bad wine gives you
a headache in the morning, whether you drink it in an old oak
panelled apartment at Cambridge, or an unstable villa in Brompton.
—Bo.

220 On the Cam.

young American, actuated by my own enthusiasm, should
rashly connect himself with an English University without
knowing something of the difficulties he would have to
encounter.

The most agreeable part of English University expe-
rience, beyond a doubt, is the undergraduate life that I
described to you in my fifth and sixth lectures. The
difficulties of prosecuting a successful course of study are
obvious, from the intensity of the competition, and the
high standard of the examinations, — and in the case of a
foreigner there is added to this, his inexperience in the
previous training of the young men, so peculiarly English
in its character. But the amusements, the convivialities,
the enjoyment of all kinds of the undergraduate life, seem
beset with no such thorns, and in point of fact, many who
cannot, by hook or by crook, work themselves up to any
understanding or appreciation of the system of study, sKp
easily, with hardly a previous acquaintance, an element of
prestige, or an hour of exertion, into the pleasantest rut of
Cambridge life.

Now it is just in this bed of roses that the sharpest
prickles are found ; and I feel it, therefore, my duty to
allude, first of all, to the faults of Cambridge as exhibited
in its daily life.

The first drawbacks which any resident at Cambridge,
but especially an American, must feel very keenly, are the
vested rights, privileges, perquisites, with which he is
surrounded as in a perfect network, I have said every-
body is left free to choose his own way of spending his
time. So he is by his compeers, but not by his infe-
riors,— not by those appointed to wait on him and help
him. There is connected with an English college a per-
fect army of servants, marshalled in corps d'arniee, divi-
sions, regiments, and battalions, and all with an amount
of vested rights enough to stifle one with the bare enume-
ration. In the first place, there are the bedmakers ;
nominally, there is one assigned to every eight rooms, and

On the Cam. 221

she has one assistant under her. Practically, a person
once appointed to this seriously lucrative and responsible
place 'never gives it up, although utterly superannuated,
toothless, and tottering. Accordingly her one assistant
will grow into two, and the two will have three or four
extra miscellaneous ones generally floating round, to do
everything that their chiefs are too lazy to do themselves.
On my own staircase, the bedmaker in chief, a hearty
young woman of thirty-five or six, employed her old father,
at least seventy-seven or eight years old, to do all her
hardest work, in the way of drawing water, &c. Now,
these good ladies are much more in possession of your
premises than you are yourself. They have a key to get
into your room at all hours, even when, as in some cases
of peculiar locks, the regular custodian has not. Accord-
ing to their taste or fancy they are more or less on the
staircase ; but generally, you are sure to see them from
early dawn till noon, from four till six, and a good bit in
the later evening. They constitute themselves inspec-
tresses-general over all your belongings and arrangements,
and know all about you much better than you do your-
self. You are hopelessly in their power, and have your
choice of submitting quietly to their ultra-despotic rule,
or of carrying on a constant warfare. In this you have
only one advantage, a superior command of language, for
the population of Cambridge is very slow of speech, and
wholly uninventive. But as they have the whole charge
of everything, as their places are very valuable, and they
are exceedingly ready to perform extra services for extra
pay, they can make you very comfortable or uncomfortable
if they will. For instance, they attend to setting out the
breakfast and tea in your rooms. For this they order from
the butteries every day about twice as much bread and
butter as a man wants, and at the end of the day all that's
left goes to them, by immemorial custom, as perquisites.
And any meats left from a dinner, breakfast, <fcc, unless
specially mentioned by you, go to them as perquisites ;

222 On the Cum.

and so on. You not only are charged a handsome sum
in your bill for their care of rooms, but another separate
charge for their beer money ; and over and above all
this, every undergraduate, not professedly a beneficiary, is
expected to pay a good sum more at the end of every
term as a pure gratuity. They form an immense body, —
several score, all banded together by common interest,
— grown old in the college, and handing down their power
and property to their nieces and daughters, so that they
come, no doubt, to regard it as a perfect family mansion,
and hold the undergraduates, and fellows too, completely
in subjection. Their honesty is quite above suspicion —
in some cases.*

Strictly allied to the bedmakers by tenure of office, by
identity of interest, and often by real affinity or consan-
guinity, are the gyps. I have already explained this word
to be from the Greek yi/4/, a vulture. The gyps form a
principal division of the grand army. They are engaged
in waiting at the high, and some of them at the low tables
in the hall, though the body of the waiters are of a lower
grade, and each one of them acts as servant to as many
undergraduates as choose to engage him. The principal
duties which we conceive as belonging to a servant in
college, viz. making fires, bringing water, and blacking
boots, are performed, the first two by the bedmaker, the
last two by the brigade of college boot-blacks. The gyp
calls you in the morning, brushes your clothes, cleans
your lamps, runs your errands, and waits at your enter-
tainments. The last two duties he performs when you
can get him to, when some other of his multifarious duties
to other masters does not call him off. For all this you
pay him a regular sum, pretty high when you consider
how many masters he has, and for any extra demands on

* One can easily imagine how a foreigner would be annoyed by
these little tilings, just as English travellers are by the vagaries of
Yankee " helps ;" an American undergraduate would certainly be
more comfortable in lodgings. — ED.

On the Cam. 223

him you are expected to pay him extra. You are not at
Trinity obliged to employ him if you think you can dis-
pense with his services, but at some other colleges the
gyps, like the Oxford scouts, are attached to particular
sets of rooms. The character of the gyps is still less
honest and acceptable than that of the bedmakers ; most
of them are either entirely too old and worn out, or young,
impudent, and thievish. I had three, one who was tre-
mendously passionate, and all but unmanageable, though
a good servant; another so wholly old and fussy that
nobody could do anything with him ; and the third one
fine day was dismissed on a charge of assisting some of his
masters in disreputable practices. The whole set may be
defined as leeches.

After the gyps come the porters. Of these there are
five employed at Trinity, who have an interesting tax ap-
propriated peculiarly to themselves. The government of
England undertakes, in consideration of the established
rates of postage, to deliver all letters to their exact address.
Each college in Cambridge is regarded, very properly, as
one dwelling, at the gate of which the government would
naturally agree to deliver letters. The porters then, at
the monstrous charge of a halfpenny apiece, half as much
as the whole postage on any ordinary letter from one end
of England to the other, agree to deliver each one at your
rooms. In case you should wish to avoid this portentous
and illegal tax, and desire to have your letters left at the
porter's lodge, or the post-office, you can't do it, for the
porter goes every mail to the post-office with his bag, and
by immemorial custom takes all the letters addressed to
your college, and you can't get them except through his
hands. And this extra postage all goes to the porters.

We have also the boot-blacks, who, in their blacking,
cut your boots to pieces with a knife,* the window-cleaners

* We give up the shoe-blacks, who are drunken vagabonds, some
of them, though they do not habitually carve one's boots. — ED.

224 On the Cam.

and glaziers, and an army more.* There are several ser-
vants belonging to the college somehow whom the officials
don't know what to put to. I saw one day an old crea-
ture performing the very tedious process of scraping out
the grass and weeds from between the paving-stones of the
court, with great labour and to very little purpose, as the
scraping turns up the earth, and fertilizes it for the recep-
tion of new weeds. I asked a friend in authority why
they didn't employ some of the chemical destructive agents,
with which agricultural science is teeming, which would do
the work in a few hours, and with much more lasting
effect, and save all this tedious picking. " Why," said
he, " that's just what we don't want to save ; we've got
these men on our hands, and we must give them some-
thing to do."

And this is the way an English college is eaten up. At
every stage of your course, bed, board, chapel, amusement,
you are beset by a crowd of servitors, who, under the name
of waiting on you, while they are officiously pressing on
you a hundred comforts you don't want, bar you of the
greatest comfort, your liberty, and fleece you in a thou-
sand ways. You cannot have anything done, your boots
blacked, your clothes washed,* in your own way, but in

* The lecturer would have sympathized with a friend of ours of
independent tastes and a dry humour, who resisted the tone as-
sumed by the washerwoman who came for his linen when he first
entered college, and flatly refused to employ her.

" But you must/' said the washerwoman ; " it be the rule of the
college."

" Wait a bit," said the Freshman ; and catching up his cap and
gown, he rushed across the court to his tutor's rooms.

" Well, Mr. F., what is it ?"

"If you please, Sir, will you kindly inform me whether there is
any statute which obliges me to employ any particular washer-
woman?"

" Certainly not."

"Would you mind giving me a certificate in writing to that
effect ?"

After some hesitation the tutor complied with his request, and

On the Cam. 225

some special, immemorial, conventional way, which, for
aught I know, is in King Henry YIII.'s original grant.
And for every service, real or nominal, thus rendered, you
have not only to pay well, but to sweeten it in a thousand
ways. Three or four times a term comes a loud knock at
the door. " Come in." A stalwart man enters, deposit-
ing your boots, which he usually leaves outside your door.
" Thank you for a drop of ale, sir. The boot-black, sir."
And this little means of washing down the disgusts of
labour you are expected to furnish all the time to all sorts
of people, the bedmaker, washerwoman, and waiter in hall
having a special charge of beer money made on the bill.
If you are unfortunate enough to take a scholarship, or a
distinguished degree, every servant, or a deputation from
every class of servants, calls upon you with this sort of
speech : " The porters, sir, wish to congratulate you on
getting your scholarship ;" and that means money, — hard,
sterling coin, in silver, aye, or gold, according to the rank
of the official : and when five or six select committees thus
congratulate you, it becomes no slight tax to a poor young
man, who, perhaps, is dependent upon this very scholar-
ship for support. I once dropped a gold ring in chapel.
I knew exactly its place, but did not want to stop and lift
up the hassock myself; so I asked the chapel clerk, whose
business it is to clean out the chapel, and who gets capital
pay therefor, to get it for me. Before I had well got to
my room, it was brought ; and before I had well put it on
my finger I was asked for some money to compensate a
man for looking where I told him to. This spirit of treat-
ing a gentleman like a milch cow, to use Sir Walter Scott's
expression, is too common all through England, but espe-
cially in the country near Cambi'idge. It is said that an

wrote the following, which the Freshman placed in a gorgeous
frame, and hung up in his room : —

" I hereby certify that Mr. F. is at liberty to have his dirty
linen washed by any laundress lie pleases.

(Signed) " ."

226 On the Cam.

undergraduate, out on a walk, saw a small child tumble
into one of the deep, wide, and slippery ditches that stag-
nate all round Cambridge. At the risk of his life, he
fished it out, took it home to its mother, who overwhelmed
him with blessings, and went back to college, like Dr.
Holmes's clerk, " with a glow in his heart and a cold in
his head." The next day enter the child's father, full of
the most profuse and choice benedictions. The student
stopped the flood, assured him he wanted nothing said
about it, and was rejoiced the child was safe. The father,
instead of moving away, pulled his forelock again, and
observed, in the inimitable Cambridge grunt, — " Haven't
you got half-a-crown, sir, for a poor man to drink your
honour's health in ?"

I fear I have failed to describe accurately this system of
extortion and small presents going on all the time at the
University ; it will probably appear to you a very trifling
matter. But if you consider that it is universally prac-
tised,— that some sixty or seventy persons, much more
intimately and indissolubly connected with the college than
yourself, are interested in keeping it up, — that you are
dependent on them for a great variety of services, and that
these services, and the extortions they lead to, are made
almost absolutely necessary by a rigid chain of custom,
drawn round you by the force of centuries of tradition, —
that if you want the slightest variation, anything done in
your own way, you must have a hand-to-hand fight for it,
on each separate occasion, — you will see that there is a
never-ending outrage on that feeling of pure independence
which a young man in America so thoroughly enjoys. The
life at Cambridge is like walking in a great and elegantly
kept park or pleasure-ground. You may see and smell
the flowers, but you cannot pick any of them ; the foun-
tain will play, but only just so, and at such times. You
must only walk on the paths, or, perchance, must submit
to be taken the grand round, from which you cannot de-
viate ; so that, after getting through all the countless

On the Cam. 227

wonders and glories, you long for a ramble through a
tangled forest, or a scour over a breezy heath, or a lounge
by some wild-wood brook, where the beauties are infinitely
less varied, less rare, less elegant, but where you are free
to enjoy everything your own way.

I pass from this annoyance, which is soon lessened by
use, and the really delightful character of the University
life, to another much more serious trouble, — the expense
of living at an English University. I have explained that
there is at Cambridge a large class of young men, not at
all engaged or supposed to be engaged in study or compe-
tition for rank, whose time, for almost the whole of their
University career, is wholly at their own disposal, but who
are obliged, like all the other students, to pass their time
in Cambridge. There is no restraint on their indulging
in any sort of luxury. They can have the most costly
dinners and suppers, by virtue of a tutor's order, from the
College kitchens, — they can keep horses at the College
stables, where many of the fellows keep theirs, — they are
only sixteen miles from Newmarket heath, where there are
more races in the course of the year than at any ten other
places put together. They have therefore every temptation
and every opportunity to exercise freely all the most ex-
pensive tastes, and have not the opportunity to indulge
them in the metropolis, or anywhere but in Cambridge
itself. They are the sons of the richest men in England,
— noblemen, country gentlemen, rich merchants, who send
them there to live, not expecting, perhaps not wishing
them to study, and indulging them in every sort of luxury.
Their leaders are a few noblemen, young men of indepen-
dent fortune, or the eldest sons of such, who have no motive
for economy of any kind. These have a sort of right to
spend money freely. They set the fashion for those of
kindred tastes who are dependent on their parents. There
is thus formed a considerable set in the University, none
of whom spend less than four hundred pounds a year, and
so on up to one thousand, or even more. All this great

228 On the Cam.

expenditure, not at home, not in London, but in the very
heart, the daily life of the University, raises the standard
of Cambridge expenses immensely. The young men who
merely wish to live a respectable, comfortable life, tind the
price of their respectable comforts very much raised by the
concomitant demand for luxuries, and by the necessity the
tradesmen are under of making up for the bad debts of
these gay young noblemen and gentlemen. For this
system of very extensive orders in all the departments of
elegance has created a corresponding system of credit.
It is all very well to make a resolution to pay ready
money, but it is very difficult, when you want in a hurry a
new text-book, or a pound of coffee or sugar, or to replace
a broken teacup, or to hire half a dozen forks and spoons
for a dinner, to pay down, when you find that any wish
can be supplied at once on credit. Moreover, almost all the
tradesmen are obliged to send their bill to the tutor for his
inspection, if not paid on the spot, and all under a certain
amount are paid through him, and put down on his account
together with the items as legitimate college expenses.*
This is a great temptation to expenditure, as the students
know that the authorities at home will not refuse to pay
what appears on the tutor's account. And so, one thing
with another, the standard of expense is raised beyond
measure. Englishmen are not an economical race. They
can live in great straits, — many of them habitually do, —
but an English gentleman who allows himself any luxury
or comfort at all must have it of the very best. The
result of it is that at the University the beneficiaries live
in extremely modest style, their needs are supplied by the
college, and in return they are restricted from certain
other expenditures. They work all the time in college, in
the hope of a fellowship or similar assistance at the end.

* Not necessarily ; a man mav have all his bills sent in to him-
self if he likes: we personally never had a tradesman's bill paid
through the tutor. — ED.

On the Cam. 229

All those who rise above this very reduced standard are
obliged to spend more for every article than it is worth,
more than even London prices, and constantly be in the
position of renouncing their natural associates, or just
keeping on the verge of debt. For the necessity in all
the college sets of giving entertainments, joining clubs,
«fec, to which you are driven by the immense esprit de
corps and love of good-fellowship that exists among
English young men, and for which there is so much more
licensed opportunity than here, makes it impossible for
one to live modestly and by himself unless he sinks to a
mere anchorite or eleemosynary.

I do not think the undergraduates themselves are con-
scious of this. I do not doubt that many of them, if they
heard me, would reclaim indignantly against the exagge-
rated picture I have drawn of the necessity of living hand-
somely. But I think their fathers would agree with me.*
I have mentioned the advantage the young noblemen
and sons of noblemen have over the others in the matter
of expenditure. I shall probably be asked if they have
not a very great advantage over all the others in every
way, — if there is not a perfectly revolting system of
toadying and courting them, — if they are not allowed all
manner of liberties not accorded to the others. I answer,
certainly not to the extent supposed here. The general
opinion of Americans as to the exaltation accorded to the
nobility in England is perhaps not exaggerated, but it
supposes them exalted in a very different way from what
they actually are. In general, they are important, not
from their rank, but their wealth, and the hereditary aris-
tocracy continues to be an important part of the governing
power, because it is a moneyed and a lauded aristocracy,
an elevation, I fancy, not peculiar to England. But this
is in general. With regard to the position of the young
nobility at school and college, let us go a little deeper.

* See further in the Appendix to this book.

230 On the Cam.

And in the first place, at the great public schools, at Eton
and Harrow, a hoy of noble birth, even though he were
a duke, is treated exactly like another. If bright and
handsome he is petted, — if stupid he is laughed at, — if
unruly he is whipped, — if insolent he is kicked. There is
a story told in diiferent terms of a great many scions of
aristocracy, among others of the late Lord Aberdeen, on
their first entrance at school. The fullest form is that a
hoy, who had always been petted at home, and at some
foolish private school, soon after arriving at Eton, heard a
gruff voice shouting the usual question, — " I say, you new

fellow, what's your name ?" " Lord John H , son

of the Marquis of B ." " O, indeed, then there's one

kick for my lord and two for the marquis." In other
words, there is no difference made between the young lords
and the young louts ; very often the two are identical. At
the University, there is not this absolute equality among
the young men. The young noblemen are at once selected
for certain clubs, — but I do not know that they are more
certainly selected than others of equal wealth and equal
notoriety. The son of a man distinguished in any way is
always eagerly looked out for at the University, and at
once adopted into whatever circle seems best suited to him,
whether his father's distinction is a peerage or not. As
far as I could see, a good deal of attention was shown to
the young nobility, but no unusual deference ; and the
extra notice was very soon forfeited, unless it continued to
he deserved by personal qualities. The noblemen derive a
little additional favour from the authorities, — some of them
of specially high rank are obliged to pay the extra fees
and sit at the high table, — this brings them naturally into
the acquaintance of the fellows, dining with them everyday.*

* The sound sense and keen observation evinced by these re-
marks must astonish every public school and University man who
reflects upon the limited period of Mr. Everett's residence in
England. — ED.

On the Cam. 231

I have no doubt that they, in common with all the fellow-
commoners who avail themselves of this expensive privilege,
are treated more leniently in respect to chapels and lec-
tures. Sometimes, if a young nobleman of very high rank
becomes a member of the college, there are seen peculiar
evidences of affection, but chiefly on the part of a few fel-
lows, despised by their associates and inferiors.

The following story was told as happening while I was
in college, of one of the proctors. He met two young
men without caps and gowns one evening, and put the
usual question to one of them, " Your name and college,
Sir, please." " The Duke of - "I beg your

Grace's pardon," interrupting him, " good night." This
was told me in the presence of the Duke's companion, and
he confirmed it. It is just one of those things which a
servile man might do in any country, and which tells no-
thing of the University one way or the other. I am in-
clined to think that the proctor recognized the Duke when
he heard his name, and let him off, as he might any
young man he knew personally to be of regular habits.
The tradesmen, of course, pay intense court, and show
intense favour to the nobility. I got out from the train
once at Cambridge, in company with a young nobleman,
carrying our bags, if I remember rightly. At the door of
the station is always a great concourse of omnibuses and
flies, as hackney carriages are called in the country. Ordi-
narily the drivers are content with standing and calling,
" Fly, Sir," « This way, Sir," " Trinity College," " Lion
Hotel," " St. John's C ollege," &c. &c. On this occasion,
however, the rush to secure the nobleman was terrific,—
significant whispers round among the flymen, " It's Lord

H , Lord H ," for his face was well known.

" This way, my Lord, here, my Lord, does your Lordship
want a fly ?" &c. &c. It is a good thing, by the way, for
Americans travelling in England to remember that a gen-
tleman, after the first introduction, never says, " My Lord,"
or, « Your Lordship," or, indeed, " Sir," except to a person

232 On the Cam.

of royal blood. But the servants and tradesmen " My
Lord" the unfortunate noblemen all the time ; they over-
whelm them with attentions, and make them pay most awful
prices. I remember once dining with a young nobleman of
high rank at a restaurant, and he asked my permission to
order the dinner in my name, as the announcement of his
own rank would have subjected him to the greatest annoy-
ance under the name of attentions.

I do not think, therefore, that any gentleman need fear
competition with the proudest peer of England at the Uni-
versity. In particular, an American is with Englishmen
so much more of a lion than any countryman that he need
never fear that he will be in obscurity.

But if in society the great man does not lord it over the
average man, he does in i-espect to study. The system I
was at such pains to explain, dispensing with a fixed course,
with daily recitations, with a current scale of rank, de-
pending for instruction entirely on private tuition, and for
stimulus on examinations at long intervals, is admirably
calculated to make a select body of distinguished scholars,
but is not nearly as well adapted for the cultivation of
average intellects. In the first place, the examinations are
made of exceeding difficulty, difficult even for the very best.
In the mathematics, for instance, are certain papers of ques-
tions called problems, which are not at all what we mean
by problems, but are new developments of the principles
contained in the books already, and may require for their
solution eight or ten different branches of mathematics all
at once. To do one third of the problems in the last
papers of an examination is a very rare achievement, and
to do a single one correctly will often put a candidate many
places higher than he would have been without it.

It is plain that these papers are exceedingly discou-
raging to inferior minds. Then the stimulus, though very
intense for the superior scholars, is very small for a man
of moderate powers ; what he wants is a constant stimulus,
a daily stimulus, little successes day by day, a good reci-

On the Cam. 233

tation here, a neat exercise there, to keep him along and
mark his improvement ; he cannot bring himself to the
lofty point of resolution which will work unflinchingly for
a prize three years oif.

Then the system of instruction, giving an hour at a
time to each individual pupil, manifestly comes hard on the
inferiors, who want the excitement and assistance of ten
or a dozen in the same predicament, and who cannot do
enough, nor do it well enough, to make it worth while for
a distinguished teacher to be spending his time on them,
when he might be giving it to a first-rate scholar. The
rewards and incentives are not for them. At the largest
and richest college there are about thirteen scholarships,
and four fellowships in every year, manifestly unattainable
by the good young man of faithfulness, but of no great
ability, who expects to be about twentieth with hard work-
Nobody encourages him, nobody helps him, nobody in-
structs him, nobody talks about him. He must get his
lessons alone, with no friend among the authorities to ex-
plain his little difficulties, to go over his little points, to
answer his little questions, — things insignificant in them-
selves, doubtless, but very great and real to him. They
are all occupied with the wranglers, and the first class in
classics, and the University scholars, and the Senior medal-
list. Yet he wants to learn, he loves to study, he delights
to cheer his parents with a little success at college ; but
all he can do in the headlong, furious competition is just to
fail of the second class in the college examination ; and as
he rather looked forward to a first, a friend sees him and
says, " I tell you what, Jones, a man as strong as you ought
to row, he oughtn't to undertake to read." In this way,
many a young man has absolutely been driven to make
boating or cricketing his regular occupation, because there
he can excel, and consequently will find attention and en-
couragement, while in the studies that he is perfectly wil-
ling to pursue, everybody is concerned with the great men
whom he has neither the power nor the wish to emulate,

234 On the Cam.

and who are entirely able to take care of themselves, and
nobody is ready to take daily care of him, which might
make a much better scholar of him, poor as he is.*

And this is true, not only in the means, but in the ob-
jects of study. The concentration of the interest at Cam-
bridge on a few branches only, and even when these are
counted as many as possible, the pains taken to secure
proficients in each by itself, is wholly inimical to bestowing
general information. It is not true that there is no provi-
sion for any but a few old-world studies. There are pro-
fessors in almost every department of knowledge, except
the modern languages and, curiously enough, Latin. And
there is an examination not only in Classics and Mathe-
matics, but in Natural Science, in Moral Science, including
History and Political Philosophy, in Law, and in Theology.
But whoever studies any of those is expected to devote him-
self to it altogether. The double men, as they are called,
men, that is, who enter the competition in two or more de-
partments, are getting fewer and fewer every year, and are
always discouraged from attempting so much by their
guardians and instructors.

The defence of this system is obvious. It is said they
want to make fine scholars in each branch, not superficial
jacks-of-all-trades. Very well ; but how if a man cannot
be a first-rate scholar in any one branch ? How if his
mind is essentially superficial and mediocre ? AVhich is
better, that in the vain struggle to be first or second in one
subject, he should end by being thirtieth, or that he should
be encouraged to take a good position in several subjects,
and make up in width what he wants in depth ? How is
it in life? One great divine confines himself to the criti-

* A man of this calibre would be better off at one of the
smaller colleges : we could mention one or two where the autho-
rities take immense pains with honest, industrious, plodding men,
of moderate ability, encouraging them in the unequal race ; not
cruelly exciting hopes which can never be realized, but telling them
what they can do, and urging them to do it. — ED.

On the Cam. 235

cism of the Scriptures, — another is the first of pulpit
orators, — and a third lives in the love of thousands, and
dies in the odour of sanctity from his marvellous gifts as
a parish pastor, without either depth of knowledge or power
of oratory. But the ordinary, the average minister of the
Gospel, is content with what his powers allow him ; he can
solve the ordinary difficulties of the Bible, without attack-
ing its higher problems, he can preach an interesting, not
an amazing sermon, and he can be loved by his parishioners
without being idolized. It is the same in law and in medi-
cine. The great lights elaborate a single specialty,— the
average men know a little of everything, because they can-
not know more than a little of anything. Therefore I think
the plan pursued at our colleges of giving the inferior minds
a chance to gain all the knowledge they can, be it wide and
superficial, or narrow and deep, is well, — and I am con-
scious that many a young man in England feels the want
of a general course, where his attention shall be attracted
to as much as he can master of all valuable branches at
once, without being forced to make a selection of some
one, for which, perhaps, he cares no more than for any
other, and strain his mind in the vain effort to reach an im-
possible elevation.

There are other faults at an English University, which
you would come across every day if you lived there, but
which it is rather difficult to describe to a foreign audience ;
but I believe these three are the main ones. First, the
want of liberty, or rather independence, everything being
beset with a series of immemorial customs and vested
rights, often of indefensible extortions ; second, the great
expense, which, though not heeded by the richer, and not
encountered by the poorer students, comes very hard on
the average, or rather on their parents ; and third, the
constant preference shown to those of superior ability, to
such an extent as to prevent those of more moderate intel-
lect from gaining that superficial but wide stock of inform-
ation, which is all they can master and all they will need.

236 On the Cam.

Let us devote a few minutes to the consideration of how
these faults are accounted for and whence they originate.

The first, the supremacy of custom, is a natural result
from the constitution of the place. The English Univer-
sities are shut up, — isolated, — their members do not mix
much with the world; — in their long vacations they lay
aside their University completely, — in their term time they
equally forget all that is outside. Hence they run natu-
rally into the same rut, — they have no outer influences to
suggest new ways. Each new set on entering is com-
pletely swallowed up by the much greater number it finds
there, and in the case of a University six hundred years
old, everything gets as solid and unchanged as the pyra-
mids. The various servants, fees, &c, originally ap-
pointed, it is likely, for some specific occasion at some
peculiar epoch, became rooted and could not be pulled up.
I do not think they would deny this themselves. How it
all began they cannot tell, — it was before their memory, —
they found it so, — and whatever is, is right.

The second and third faults, I think, are to be attri-
buted to the state of England. England is a rich country,
an expensive country, and an over-stocked country. The
poorer classes are very poor, and they have no very great
ambition to rise above their poverty ; millions live con-
tented from year to year in a state that no American will
voluntarily submit to. But this state once past there is a
tendency growing rapidly to live in great comfort, and
have everything of the best. This may be seen in the
country. There are there no small compact gentlemen's
houses of a dozen rooms and an acre and a-half of ground
about them, surrounded by a dozen more, inhabited by his
tradesmen, of much the same size and appointments.
There are palaces and hovels. It is only when some
truly wise proprietor forces his tenant labourers into bet-
ter houses, or in the great manufacturing towns, where
the liberating influences of commerce and manufactures
are forcing a juster style of living on the people, that you
see a mode of life that is neither poverty nor luxury, but

On the Cam. 237

true decency. But England generally is a very expensive
country, and the Universities being frequented by those
brought up in the most expensive tastes, and with the
means to gratify them, carry the national peculiarity to
exaggeration. Cambridge only represents England in
giving you the power of scraping or the power of spend-
ing, but not the power of economizing.*

And so with the third fault, the difficulties in the
way of the average man. England is not a country for
average men ; every profession is over-stocked, and the
only chance is for the man of superior agility and address
to climb to a lofty position over the heads of a hundred
others. They do need a race of scholars and special-
ists. There is a place in such a large and crowded popu-
lation for leaders in every department, be it the study of the
Greek propositions or the development of the lemniscate
curve. But they do not want any man of average intel-
lect, who knows a little of everything. There is no call,
as there is in our western country, for a man to go out
prepared to be a lawyer, a lecturer, a member of Congress,
a president of an insurance company, and a deacon all at
once.f In every one of these departments they can find
twenty who have made it and it alone their specialty, and
therefore they will, as each new need occurs, fill it up in
the best manner. If Cambridge, therefore, were to seek
to educate the average man instead of the extraordinary
man, if, instead of giving all her attention to a senior clas-
sic who can't solve a simple equation, and a third wrangler
who doesn't know the veins from the arteries, she drew up
a careful course of study, wherein every student should in
one week recite in Greek, Latin, mathematics, chemistry,
rhetoric and French, she would simply be producing what

* There seems to us to be exaggeration in all this. Scores of
men manage to spend their time at college in respectable comfort,
without meanness or extravagance. But it is impossible quite to
understand a foreigner's standard of such matters. — ED.

f We do not know what " call " there may be for such a genius,
but we do not believe that he answers in any country. — ED.

238 On the Cam.

there is no demand for, and neglecting what is loudly
called for every day.

Therefore, I think we bring it to this, that Cambridge,
although her system of instruction and her daily life are
peculiar, still cannot resist the natural influences of the
country in which she is placed. English of the English,
her students, when they enter, are as much Britons as
ever, and three, five, ten years' constant association with
their countrymen cannot make them less so. All the
water that is in Cam cannot wash their English blood out
of their body.

Nor should we wish it otherwise, for a great institution
like Cambridge is bound to consider the education of the
people as its first duty. If the scholars and philosophers
of Cambridge were ever so brilliant and so accurate in the
eyes of the world, and yet failed to prepare a set of men fit
to take their part in the daily work of England, they would
soon cease to be intrusted with the cai'e of young English-
men, and so go to decay. It is thus that the great Uni-
versities of Italy and Spain decayed, because, with all the
instruction they gave in all branches of learning, their
members shut themselves up from the world, their country.
They thought of medicine, not of Italy ; of theology, not
of Spain. But the opposite of this, the feeling of each
and all that in their academic retirement they belonged to
their country, — this it is which, on the contrary, makes
the German Universities the rallying grounds of liberal
principles in that tyrant-ridden country ; it is this that
makes Cambridge and Oxford the homes of generous, brave,
truthful Englishmen ; this that sent the sons of Harvard to
plead and die for the Union.

I propose, therefore, to devote the remaining lectures to
a consideration of the relations of Cambridge to England,
and some questions arising from them. There are two
aspects in which England may be regarded, — its Church
and its State ; and as the Universities are most intimately
connected with the Church, I propose to make that connec-
tion the subject of my next lecture.

XI.

RELATIONS OF CAMBRIDGE TO THE
ENGLISH CHURCH.

Ecclesiastical Character of the Colleges. — Attendance on Chapel
and other Religious Duties.— Act o/1662.— Theological Exa-
mination and other Requisites for Ordination. — Parties in
the Church. — Oxford the Seat of Extremists, Cambridge of
Broad- Church Divines.

EXTER this evening upon one of the most
difficult and important branches of my sub-
ject ; important, because the connection of
the Universities with the Church of Eng-
land is intimate and peculiar to a degree
that our theocratic fathers might have conceived, that
Jonathan Edwards might have appreciated, but which we
can scarcely realize ; and difficult, because the candid con-
sideration of any question where religious or ecclesiastical
questions are involved, never can be of that entirely in-
different and open nature to all persons, that is, the mere
description of life and studies and history. I wish, there-
fore, in this present lecture, particularly, not to be misun-
derstood. My feelings, personally, to the Church of
England and its ministers, are of an entirely friendly and
respectful nature. I might say, as Francis Higginson did,

240 On the Cam.

that I am no separatist from her. Going to a University
where her influence was more deep-rooted and more wide-
spread than anywhere in the world, except at the sister Uni-
versity of Oxford ; — going there with views avowedly as far
removed from the Church's Articles as a Christian's views
can be, I was uniformly treated, in my constant associa-
tion with actual or expectant divines of her communion,
with courtesy, with liberality, with kindness. She ap-
peared to me in the light of a truly Catholic Church. She
accepted as a test of fitness to her communion merely that
a man should profess and call himself a Christian ; and on
one occasion, when I was absolutely brought into collision
with a religious requirement, and stood out against it, the
consideration of all concerned was truly affecting. In all
I may say to-night, therefore, I desire to deprecate in
advance any thought of disrespect or unkindness. "What-
ever I have to reprehend in the ecclesiastical associations
of Cambridge, I do, because I believe it to be alien from
the true spirit of the Church that her Eidley died to found,
and her Tillotson in vain strove to purify.

There is, I think, a pretty general belief that the prin-
cipal colleges at Oxford and Cambridge were founded on
the basis of religious houses. This is hardly correct. On
the contrary, as I stated in my second lecture, they were
founded to give literary men a snug harbour without enter-
ing a convent. But in their institution a good deal was
borrowed from the monastic forms. This is shown, first,
in. the dress. The long-sleeved gown, of a different cut
from that of the burgher or the nobleman, and entirely be-
yond the tunic of the peasant ; the round, close-fitting cap,
covering the part bared by the tonsure ; the hood of fur or
silk, hanging down the back like a cowl, and perhaps at
first drawn over the head, — all these, in their form, speak
of a clerical or monastic origin.* But the resemblance

* The bachelor's hood hns a long purse at the bottom of it, for
the reception of the mediaeval coppers of the charitable. — ED.

On the Cum. 241

which is merely in the outward show is nothing to the
evidently monastic character of the corporations them-
selves. The fellows of the colleges are, according to the
old constitutions, only another kind of monks. They are
interdicted from marrying ; and they are obliged, after
holding their fellowships for a certain length of time, to
forfeit them, unless they take priest's orders in the Church
of England. It was thus clearly the design of the founders
of the colleges to afford a regular increase of the celibate
clergy. And the very character of the colleges is monastic.
They have their own chapel, and hall for dining ; their own
treasurer, steward, chaplains, and officers of every kind ;
the whole organization being clearly borrowed from that
of a convent, and recurring in their cloisters, gardens, but-
teries and kitchens, &c. This whole matter of the stu-
dents gathering into select bodies, governed by ecclesiastics
formerly of their own number, and having regular hours,
studies, and systems of discipline, is not found in Univer-
sities established in Europe since the monastic times, and
has existed, more or less, in our colleges, because the first
of them were founded by members of the English Univer-
sities at the time when the monastic institutions had scarcely
become extinct.

We start, then, with an essentially ecclesiastical con-
stitution of the colleges, the governing body, fellows and
masters, being all priests of the Church of England.*
Let us now see how far there is a constant religious or ec-
clesiastical influence brought to bear on the undergradu-
ates and Bachelors of Arts.

I cannot find that any subscription of the articles of the
Church of England was ever required on entrance into the
University of Cambridge. It was at Oxford, as is well
known to us by various jokes. That requirement, how-

* In some colleges, chiefly those where medicine or the civil
law is studied, the masters need not be clergymen; e. g. Caius
and Trinity Hall.

242 On the Cam.

ever, has been recently repealed there as well. Any per-
son, whatever his religious views, is free to enter. Once
entered, the first question will be as to attending chapel.
The frequency and length of the chapel services will vary
at different colleges. At Trinity, there are three services
on Sunday, and two every week-day, making fifteen in all.
Of these, every undergraduate is nominally required to at-
tend eight ; that is, a little more than half, of which two
must be on Sunday ; but this eight really means six, and,
to all above the rank of freshman, five. Many keep, as it
is called, four and five in alternate weeks, getting a repri-
mand for four ; then five the next week, to avoid a second
censure ; then four again, and so on. The service is, of
course, that of the Church of England. Every day,
Morning and Evening Prayer; Sundays, Wednesdays,
and Fridays, the Litany, in addition ; on Sundays and
Saints' Days, the Ante-Communion service ; and on Sun-
days only, a sermon. At some colleges, the service of
Morning Prayer is omitted on the Litany days. The re-
quirement to attend these services extends to all students,
whatever their religious views may be. Everybody in
England is supposed to belong to the Church of England.
By the present laws a dissenter is allowed to worship else-
where, if he will ; but he cannot be excused from attend-
ance at the required services if he comes to college. In
my time, considerable excitement was caused by the son of
a rich Jewish banker, who came to Trinity, and sought to
be excused from attending chapel ; but it was peremptorily
insisted on. He ascertained, however, that at Christ's
College they were not so strict ; and threatened to mi-
grate. Whereat he was allowed to stay in Trinity, and
the obnoxious requirement relaxed. But no Christian
dissenter, Protestant or Catholic, can be exempted. Also,
you will observe that there is no distinction made between
college chapel services and church on Sunday. And as
the services are exactly the same, there is no reason why
there should be. If any one prefers to hear the sermons

On the Cam. 243

in one of the parish churches, he can ; but he must do it
so as to be present also at all required services in the col-
lege chapel. Generally, no one would prefer it: the
preaching in those of the college chapels, where there is
preaching, is generally far superior to any in the town.

The one required service from which nobody can exempt
himself is the Trinity, and I believe in several other col-
leges, that on Sunday evening, and on this occasion the
chapel is crammed full ; the five hundred and odd under-
graduates, and sixty or seventy graduates, being swelled
by a crowd of ladies and gentlemen of the vicinity, who
have secured admission to hear the splendid choral service,
which is, I own, very well-performed and interesting.

This attendance of five or six chapels a week is all an
undergraduate will hear on the subject in the first year or
two of his college course. But let us suppose he is intel-
ligent or fortunate enough to get a foundation scholar-
ship. In this case he will be required to do in Trinity
what he would at any rate in some other colleges, scholar
or not, namely, to read the chapters, or lessons as they
are called, from the Bible, in the chapel services. Two
scholars are detailed for this purpose every week, who are
required either to read themselves, or get substitutes. They
will take their places at the end of the scholars' seats,
close to a reading-desk, corresponding to the one where
the chaplain conducts the rest of the service. They are
required, when delegated to read the lessons, to wear sur-
plices, though everybody else but the chaplain wears the
ordinary gown. In general the scholars are interested in
the lessons, and do not avoid the work, except that it is
sometimes very disagreeable to turn out to read at morn-
ing chapel, when you wouldn't be otherwise obliged to go.
I ought, by the way, to have made it more clear before,
that morning chapel is at seven all the year round, and
evening at six. On Sundays, morning services at eight and
eleven, evening at six and a quarter, which is also the hour
for evening chapel on Saturdays, Saints' Days and their eves.

244 On the Cam.

This applies to Trinity, but nearly every college has its
own hours for chapel, and by good management one can
go to six or seven different services on Sunday, if he wish.
But to return to the requirements on the scholars. They
are obliged to keep six chapels every week, on pain of losing
their week as it is called, and so the term, — an operation
explained in my sixth lecture, — and if they can bring
themselves to eight services a week, they are rewarded in
a peculiar way by having no charge made in that week for
their dinner in hall, — which reminds one of the little boy
iu "Jane Eyre" that received two ginger nuts for his
piety, and makes every chapel worth a little less than two
shillings to them.

But this is not all. The two scholars who read the les-
sons of the Bible every week have another duty to per-
form ; namely, to read the Latin grace after meat for the
fellows' table. Long after the scholars themselves have
finished their dinner and gone out ; long after the under-
graduates have equally concluded, and about as soon as the
Bachelors of Arts have ended, the steady gorging which
has been kept up at the high table for three-quarters of
an hour, comes to an end. The fellows at last are ready
to retire to what is called the combination room. This is
a handsome room, where all meetings of the fellows are
held, as well those for fruit and wine after dinner, as for in-
flicting punishment and praise on their subjects. The old,
white-headed porter, looking through the door, sees the
equally white-headed waiter raise his hand from the vicin-
ity of the table, with a paper in it. He signals accordingly
to the two scholars, who have all this time been kept from
their wine parties, their newspapers, their everything.
They walk in, and the fellows rise. The waiter hands to
one scholar the paper he used to signal with, which con-
tains the Latin Grace printed. It is truly a portentous
document. The first scholar, or primo basso, reads the as-
cription to the Trinity; then eightsentencesofgeneralprai.se
and thanksgiving are read by the two alternately, and the

On the Cam. 245

primo basso ends with three long prayers, one of thanks for
the dinner he has not eaten, one of thanks for the
founders of the college, which, I presume, was origin-
ally a prayer for their souls, and one for the Queen, Eoyal
family, and whole Church ; and then the scholars quit the
hall as fast as possible. This duty, coming in just as
everybody wants to be about his own business, is exces-
sively tedious, and is shirked in every possible way. In
the long vacation, the two scholars never are both present,
it being justly thought a pampering of the fellows to treat
them to a responsive grace in vacation ; and not un-
frequently both are absent. In this case, the porter at the
door replies to the waiter's signal by a shake of the head.
The absence of scholars is communicated to the presiding
fellow, who rises and returns thanks, literally in two
words, — " Benedicto Benedicatur, " as a substitute for the
long grace of ordinary days.

Eepeated negligence to read grace on the part of the
delegated scholars is punished by discommonsing, or de-
priving the undergraduate of all supplies of food and
drink from the college, till repentance or softening on
either side. I believe technically any tradesman in the
town supplying him with food might be severely punished
also, but the expense would be quite enough.

We have now followed our undergraduate till he takes
his Bachelor's degree. This formerly involved signing
the oaths of allegiance and supremacy, that is, renouncing
all authority over the English Church of any but the
Queen, and a declaration that the candidate for B.A.
was a bond fide member of that Church. This of course
prevented all foreigners and dissenters from taking a
degree, though they might pass the examination. Mr.
Sylvester, recently elected to the French Institute, In-
structor in Mathematics at the Eoyal Military Academy
of Woolwich, and formerly in the University of Virginia,
at Charlottesville, universally acknowledged one of the
first mathematicians in the world, was second wrangler in

246 On the Cam.

1837, but could not take his degree of Bachelor of Arts
because he was a Jew. But in the year 1858, I think,
this requirement was removed, and now the bachelor's de-
gree may be taken at either University without subscrip-
tion or oath.

Our undergraduate, then, has taken his degree, and
is a Bachelor of Arts. "NVhat are his relations to the
Church, and to religious exercises ? Ordinarily speaking,
although he is by no means wholly a freeman, although
for the next three years the University exercises certain
restraints upon him, yet they are not of a religious cha-
racter. If, however, he is a scholar, — for the scholarships
are held till the master's degree is taken, — he has still
some concern with them. He has now to read the lessons
in chapel on Saturday evening, and on Sunday. This he
does, not by regular rotation, but purely by accident. The
bachelor scholar, who at these services happens to occupy
the end seat, goes up and reads. In connection with this,
I was once placed in an awkward position. The large
Bible is always open on the reading-desk, and plenty of
small hand Bibles are scattered about the seats. I was too
near-sighted to distinguish the letters in the great Bible,
without bending down in a painful way, so generally used
to take up a little one from the seat. On one occasion,
I found myself elected by chance to read, and all the little
Bibles had got carried off. It was rather awkward, as no
other scholar was sitting near to take my place. The
chapter was the familiar one 2 Cor. iv. I went up, got
one or two glimpses at the big Bible, and repeated the
rest of the chapter from memory, — rather a dangerous
experiment.

The bachelor scholar naturally competes for a fellow-
ship. He may be a successful candidate for this, and
there is nothing in the college statutes requiring him to
sign anything in the way of a religious test, — nor is there
in the rules' of the University. But here come in the acts
of Parliament, the old acts of uniformity, and the first col-

On the Cam. 247

lision of freedom of thought and the requirements of the
Church.

When the rule was rescinded, obliging Bachelors of
Arts to declare themselves members of the Church, the
question came, what shall be the position of the Masters of
Arts ? — The Masters of Arts have the government of the
University, — they choose the Vice-Chancellor, Professors,
Proctors, and all other University officers, and the mem-
bers of Parliament who represent the University. They
have two bodies, a Council and a Senate, wherein their
affairs are decided, and a number of committees, called
syndicates, on the library, museums, branches of study,
&c. The moment a man is a Master of Arts, and entitled
to wear the full-sleeved black gown and tall hat, he is
exempted from all restraints whatsoever, can appear with
or without his academic dress at all times, and is eligible
to University offices.

The question then arose, whether all these rights, which
are in Cambridge and Oxford very considerable, should be
bestowed on all religious professions alike. It was finally
decided that at Cambridge a dissenter from the Church
of England might take his master's degree as a non-de-
clarant, that is, without the declaration that he belonged
to the Church ; this would exempt him from all academic
restraints, give him the right to wear the M.A. dress,
and make him, I believe, eligible to all offices to which it
was merely specified that an M.A. should be chosen. If,
however, he desired to be a member of the Senate, that is,
the great ruling body of the University, to vote at elections
and meetings, and have a share in the government, he must
declare, he must sign the declaration, that he was bond fide
u member of the Church of England. And here comes in the
collision. By the college statutes, a person chosen a fellow
must proceed in due course to his M.A. degree. The
majority of graduates are content as here with their first
degree, and go no further. But a person chosen fellow
cannot remain a Bachelor of Arts all his life, he must

248 On the Cam.

qualify himself to assist in controlling the college and
University. And the University insists, that when a fellow
becomes an M.A. it must be as a member of the Senate, a
declarant. And this it does in virtue of the bloody Art
of Uniformity in 1662 ; the act that turned two thousand
non -conformist ministers of the Gospel out of their parishes.
Before that act. quantities of fellowships had been held in
all colleges, and both Universities, by persons who never
had sworn allegiance to the Church of England. But this
act prescribed that every person engaged in any office of
teaching or preaching, public or private, must conform
bond fide to the Church of England, by signing this decla-
ration. It literally included all classes engaged in reli-
gious or secular instruction, from the Archbishop of Can-
terbury and the Master of Trinity, to the poorest curate in
Westmoreland, and the humblest private tutor or grammar-
school master ! The provisions of this sweeping act were
one by one softened, but no power has yet prevailed to
remove the requirement that fellows of a college in Oxford
or Cambridge should declare themselves members of the
Church of England.

You may suppose that this declaration is signed by many
who have the slightest possible regard for the Church of
England. Indeed, I was told that Lord Loughborough,
who, as Chancellor of England and Keeper of the King's
Conscience, ought to understand the matter, put a purely
negative interpretation on the whole matter. A young
relative of his entering Oxford, wrote to protest against
his being obliged to sign the thirty-nine articles. " O,"
wrote back the Chancellor, " it isn't supposed that you be-
lieve them, it is only a pledge that you don't hold to any
other of the world's superstitions." I should think that
the Chancellor's explanation was very commonly received
in England. A tremendous effort was made to get this
requirement removed, as to the fellows, in the last year or
two, but it failed.

I have already said that by the old constitution of the

On the Cam. 249

University, the fellows in most of the colleges were obliged
to take priest's orders in the Church of England, or for-
feit their fellowships after a certain length of time. This
has been, in many of the colleges, extensively modified ;
particularly in Trinity it has been determined, that a
fellow who takes part in the active instruction of the col-
lege for ten years, may retain his fellowship for life, or
till marriage, and yet remain a layman.

The lessons in the chapel on Saints' Days are read by
the fellows, and, in certain cases, by the head of the col-
lege ; so also the grace before meat every day in the hall.

It is peculiar, by the way, the history of this require-
ment as to the celibacy of the members of the college cor-
porations. In some colleges it is wholly broken up, and
the fellows may marry ; in others, any fellow who is chosen
to a University office as well, such as professor, or libra-
rian, may marry, and retain his fellowship. The story is
told of a college Bellow, who settled down in a country
parish, married, and never told anybody of it ; so that the
emoluments of his fellowship, which he by rights forfeited
at his marriage, continued to be paid him ; and the first the
college heard of there being anything wrong, was by re-
ceiving a letter from his widow, hoping that they would con-
tinue to her the little annuity they had so kindly paid her re-
cently deceased husband.

There is another motive for the fellows entering the min-
istry of the Church of England. All the colleges at Oxford
and Cambridge were endowed by their founders and subse-
quent benefactors with the right of presenting clergymen to
livings and benefices all over the country. The general
course of things, therefore, for the fellow of a college is to
wait till the incumbent of some parish in the gift of the
college dies, then resign his fellowship, step in, and settle
down as a parish minister for life, or until he gets a better
living or a bishopric. Many of the fellows become engaged
to be married on the chances of a college living falling-
vacant. Some atrocious instances are known of fellows,

250 On the Cam.

wholly unfit to instruct, holding on and on, keeping their
undergraduates waiting for their fellowships, and their in-
tendeds for their hands, because the old clergyman will not
die, that holds that rich living they are waiting for.*

This terminates, I believe, the first part of my subject ;
namely, the immediate connection of the University with
the religious establishment of England. The next point to
be considered is the position it occupies as a training school
for clergymen of the Established Church.

Formerly, the Universities, Oxford, Cambridge, and
Dublin, had a monopoly of candidates for holy orders. It
was necessary to be a graduate of one of them to receive
Episcopal ordination, — unless in very peculiar cases. It
was to afford young men, especially from the North, a
cheaper, yet equally legitimate passage to the Church, that
the University of Durham was established. Of late, how-
ever, this privilege is removed ; and the bishops are au-
thorized to admit to holy orders persons who, though not
University men, yet appear, on scrutiny by the examining
chaplains, to be well educated, or. as the phrase is, " literate
persons." The term " literate " is easily corrupted, in the
mouths of University men, into another, not quite so com-
plimentary^ but more often true.

But still the majority of young men who seek to become
ministers of the Church of England, enter one of the Uni-
versities. Formerly, the only divinity instruction was that
given by the lectures of the divinity professors, and by a
little Greek Testament, and other theological branches in-
troduced into the regular college and university examina-
tions. In this way, candidates for holy orders, who were
too lazy to attend the professors' lectures, presented them-
selves for ordination miserably qualified for their holy office.

* " Atrocious " is strong. What is a man to do who has no
source of income but his well-earned fellowship, or the expected
living ? The fault lies with the moribund incumbent, who is some-
times most repreheusibly tenacious of life. — ED.

Gn the Cam. 251

To stimulate theological study, the University of Cambridge
instituted some time ago a voluntary theological examina-
tion, in two parts, one harder and one easier, the honour and
the ordinary examination, and extending over all the sub-
jects of a divinity education. All persons desirous of en-
tering this must previously have attended a course of divin-
ity lectures, at some time in their college course. The
establishment of this examination at the University has
been attended with good effects. It has been accepted as
a test of theological training all over England. Thus, you
constantly see in the theological journals advertisements
like this : " The Bishop of London will hold his next ordi-
nation on Trinity Sunday, June 8th. Candidates should
apply to his Lordship's Examining Chaplains, the Kev.
Canon Stanley, Christ Church, Oxford, or the Rev. Pro-
fessor Lightfoot, Trinity College, Cambridge. Candidates
from Cambridge are required to have passed the Theological
Examination." Almost all the bishops have thus adopted it.
Hence at the time of the theological examination there is a
great rush of young graduates to Cambridge, who have got
to pass their " voluntary," as they term it, — though it is
now not really voluntary but obligatory. The professors'
lectures are very good. There are four divinity professor-
ships besides those of Hebrew and moral philosophy. Of
course the instruction is entirely to prove the Church of
England theology perfect and unassailable. In the exami-
nations, which are very thorough, the same end is strictly
kept in view. There is, I believe, no instruction in pulpit
oratory. Eloquent sermons are discouraged in the Church
of England.* Otherwise, the theological instruction to be
acquired at Cambridge is for that body most excellent.
There is one other requirement before a member of the

* Hardly ; that would be unnecessary. But people differ very
much in their estimation of what is eloquence ; and there are cer-
tainly many, especially old ladies, who, if they hear a practical
sermon, fear " that it is not the Gospel." — ED.

252 On the Cam.

University can be admitted to orders in the Church of Eng-
land. He must bring testimonials from his college to his
moral character. I have seen one of these certificates. It
was signed by the master and eight senior fellows, who have
the government of the college in their hands. It bore the
most emphatic testimony to the entire fitness of the young
candidate in character and learning, for his high and sacred
office. Now these nine gentlemen who signed it, were of
all men those least likely to know anything about it. They
were not the young man's instructors, not his acquaint-
ances, and had had less to do with him than any officials in
the college. How, then, does he obtain such a full and
glowing certificate from them? He suspends a formal
notice on the hall doors that "Domimis" — i. e. graduate
— " so and so requests the college testimonials for orders."
He then gives 7s. Qd. to the chapel clerk, who procures him
this certificate, all signed and sealed as a matter of course,
if he has complied with the formal requirements necessary
for obtaining it. What are these formal requirements?
That three times in the whole of his previous college course,
as undergraduate or graduate, he should have partaken of
the communion in the college chapel ! On that footing, if
his name appears three times on the marker's list as having
stayed after the monthly service to the communion, he re-
ceives— no matter what his character — the testimonial of
the governors of his college to his perfect fitness in moral-
ity and learning for the highest office a man can hold.
Every now and then you see men whom you know to have
graduated some time since coming to Cambridge for no
apparent reason ; they appear in chapel the next Sunday,
and you understand then that they have come to fill up
the number of these attendances at communion, or, as the
phrase is, to keep their sacraments.* I saw many tilings

* The authorities of the college only take tlie ordinary test
common throughout the country. To become a communicant is to
profess yourself not only a sincere believer, but, to the best of your

On the Cam. 253

in England that pained me as to their estimation of sacred
things, but never anything like this gross levity as to the
communion. The rite of confirmation, which admits to a
participation in it, is usually administered to boys at school.
The Bishop comes down to Eton, or Harrow, or Rugby,
and confirms boys by the score. I have repeatedly heard
the story of this administration told, and it seemed to be
always the same, — a little fluttering and temporary seri-
ousness, and then the whole thought of afterwards as. a
matter of course ; a thing to be gone through, that often-
times had a great element of the ludicrous in it, such as
stories of how the Bishop's hand felt on the head, and yet
more irreverent and revolting details. When this is the
preparation, what must be the performance? At Cam-
bridge it is administered in a very wholesale manner, and
the young candidates for orders seem to look on it as no-
thing more than a formality which three times performed
gives them a certificate of morality.

I speak, of course, only of a portion. There are those,
and perhaps the majority of Cambridge young men, who
deserve any certificate that could be given them ; whose
attendance on all the rites of the church is constant, reve-
rent, devout ; who would die rather than regard the holiest
as a formality, or a substitute for a pure life. But why-
are not all so ? Why is it that every year, in counting up
those of your college acquaintance who are certainly study-
ing theology, the majority are of a dissolute life, of which
Thackeray has given us such a terrible picture in Bute
Crawley ? It is because they can get this easy substitute

ability, a good and moral. liver. Bad wives, undutiful children,
ladies who destroy their neighbours' characters by scandal, often
make this profession ; but a clergyman has no other sign to go by,
and if he were asked for the character of a parishioner of whom he
knew no ill, and who " stayed, " as the phrase is, regularly, he
would not hesitate to give him a good one. If a man or a woman
will be a hypocrite, neither the parish clergyman nor the college
dean can help being taken in. — I'D.

254 On the Cam.

for a high character, — it is because thrice attending the
communion will give them a testimonial to conduct to
which their whole college life gives the lie. It is above
all, from the English system of appointment to the offices
in the Church. You are aware that in England it is very
rare that the parishioners in a church choose their own
pastor. The appointment to the living, as it is called, is
attached to some family or office or institution. Almost
every wealthy country family has one or more of these
livings, which are saved as a provision for the younger sons.
A young man goes to college, lives the freest and most
vicious of lives, and stints himself all the less, because " he's
going into the Church, and they're keeping a living for
him at home." Nay, after he has been pursuing theolo-
gical studies for years, after he is ordained, after he is
licensed to preach, he will return to Cambridge to see his
old friends, and rush into all the old orgies, and excuse
himself by saying that " he has not been inducted into his
parish, and when he is, he'll turn over a new leaf."* As
long as this system of family presentation continues, the
Church will never be free from a set of lazy and vicious
youths, who sow their wild oats up to her very doors, and
pursue their course of dissipation with the greater license
because she will give them a support, and three perfunc-
tory attendances on her holiest of rites will secure them
lying testimonials to learning they never studied and vir-
tues they never practised.

It is a sickening picture which I certainly do not love
to contemplate. Let us rather turn to Cambridge as one
of the great nurseries of the Church of England in its best
form ; one of the twin homes from which have issued, for

* Of course, the fact of Church livings being in the hands of
laymen is an anomaly ; but, like many other anomalies in the Eng-
lish Constitution, it works very fairly on the whole. It draws and
reforms a few rakes, who cry, " Give me one of the priests' offices,
that I may eat a piece of bread;" but if you could get behind the
scenes of any church, or any religious sect, would you not find an
equal number of careless and hypocritical ministers? — ED.

On the Cam. 255

hundreds of years, all the real strength, learning, and piety
of that great institution. I gave you some description, in
my ninth lecture, of the eminent divines of Cambridge in
the last two centuries. It is now, therefore, important
rather to describe her present position in the Church of
England, with reference to its parties, its power, its influ-
ence, its prospects.

The two Universities, Oxford and Cambridge, strictly on
an equality as they are in so many points, are so in none
more than in the proportion of divines they supply to the
Church. A minister of state would be thought exceed-
ingly partial who did not fill all vacant bishoprics equally
from graduates of the two Universities. But with reference
to the position they occupy as to the parties dividing the
Church, very great distinctions must be drawn.

There are at present three very distinct divisions in the
Church of England, viz. the High, the Low, and the Broad
Church parties, to which we may add the Revolutionists.
The High Church party are sometimes collectively known
as Puseyites, but this properly belongs only to an extreme
wing of them, and, like Tractarians, is a name which gene-
rally disappeared with the controversy that caused it about
twenty years ago. The High Church party has several
shades. Its members range from the " good Church-
men," who are very proud of this name, and talk a great
deal about the Church and inveigh against the dissenters,
but show no fondness for the Church of Eome, through
the High Churchmen proper, up to the Anglicans and
Anglo-Catholics. As you get higher and higher, you find
an increasing love for vestments, rituals, choral services.
and turnings to the East. Miss SewelPs novels are a very
good type of the average High Church party views, — Miss
Yonge has rather fallen off, — but both are still very strong
on the sacramental doctrines, the distinguishing mark of
the High Churchmen. The Bishop of Oxford is a good
specimen of them.

The Low Church party, of which Lord Shaftesbury was
long considered the greatest layman, and Canon McNeile

256 On the Cam.

and the Bishop of Kochester are among the leading cler-
gymen, call themselves the Evangelicals. They hold very
strongly to the articles of the Church, which, as Pitt said,
were Calvinistic, while her ritual was Popish. They insist
on doctrinal points, — all hold the literal doctrine of verbal
inspiration of the Scriptures, and rather hold out the left
hand of fellowship to the Protestant dissenters, — they do
not talk much about the Church, and insist very little on
sacramental ordinances. Both they and the High Church
party, however, join in attacking the Broad Church, whose
name sufficiently explains its nature, standing between the
other two, hating the extremes of both, — neither insisting
on daily services nor on verbal inspiration, but striving to
raise the Church of England in the opinion of all its mem-
bers as a universal church. An old joke declares that the
difference between the High and Low Church, or the
Puseyites and Evangelicals, is the difference between Pus-
syism and Catechism. A still more complete one classes
the High Church with its postures and genuflexions, the
Low with its interminable sermons and literal comments,
and the Broad, thus : High — Attitudinarian ; Broad —
Latitudinarian ; Low — Platitudinarian.

From all these stand out the Revolutionists ; — I mean
the men who are convinced that the Church of England
must submit to some change. As against the High Party,
that not only are her services and sacraments not vital, but
too long, too unchangeable, too antiquated ; as against the
Low, that the Athanasian creed, and the doctrine of verbal
inspiration, must be struck out of the prayer and preach-
ing of the Church ; as against the Broad, that these things
must be done, and not merely talked about,— that it will
not do merely to put the extremists aside in silence, and
dwell on what is acceptable to all, but that the Church
must cease to reprint, to republish, to reassert, to uphold,
day after day, things that the common sense and common
conscience of millions in England resist and deny every
day ; in short, that the extension which Tillotson and
William III. sought to make in the pale of the Church,

On the Cam. 257

one hundred and fifty years ago, must be made now ; or
else the outsiders will rush in and break down the whole
paling, and, instead of being let in by tickets duly signed and
countersigned, will take the kingdom of Heaven by force !
I have called this class of divines Revolutionists, be-
cause I think it expresses most nearly the state of thought
and action to which their views tend. You may give them
what name you will, descriptive, laudatory, censuring;
they may be stigmatized as Rationalists, extolled as men
of progress, or merely named as Essayists and Reviewers.
But, call them what you will, think of them as you will, it
cannot be denied, it cannot be overlooked, that there is a
great force now working both inside and outside the Eng-
lish Church which cannot be resisted. At a time when
every other branch of human knowledge and experience is
advancing tenfold in a year, for what it once did in a cen-
tury ; at a time when all the helps to Scripture criticism
are of tenfold keenness and polish, men cannot go on
accepting without question the same results that satisfied
Augustine or Calvin, Edward VI. or Charles I. It is the
aim, the plea, the cry of these men, that the work of pro-
gress, of truth, of casting off the senseless shackles of tra-
dition and superstition may come from within the Church ;
that she may look in time, not only to her battlements and
pinnacles, her carved work and her silken hangings, but
to her lower walls and her foundations. Let her be sure
that her mortar is not untempered, that no quicksand lurks
in the hollows of the rock whereon she boasts to stand; for
the clouds are gathering in the heavens, the rivers are
swelling high, the wind is sighing from the forest ; and,
when that rain does descend, that flood does come, that
wind does blow, and beat upon her house, if there is
treachery in that boasted foundation of Articles, and Creeds,
and Ritual, great will be the fall of it.*

* We think that men of all shacks of opinion will agree in
esteeming this short summary of the parties which divide the
Church of England as very ahle. — ED.

258 On the Cam.

Now with regard to these parties, the Universities stand
thus affected. Oxford is always in extremes. Twenty
years ago, when the Tractarian or Puseyite movement
swept over England, Oxford went heels over head, right
into the abyss, and emerged soaked and dripping. Her
architecture, her poetry, her divinity, her politics, all
became saturated with lecterns and roodlofts, chasubles
and dalmatics, vigils and antiphons, Laud the Saint and
Charles the Martyr. Ruskin was not too independent,
Mansel not too philosophical not to catch, unconsciously
perhaps, deep tinges of the scarlet dye. When this stream,
so sparkling yet so turbid, brawling over a dead leaf like a
stone, thundering against an oak of centuries like a weed
of yesterday, had run itself fairly into the subterranean
cell of monasticism, another spring, the spring of criticism,
of free discussion, of liberal thought broke out, and now
who so liberal as Oxford, who so eager for reform in the
Church, who so indignant against subscription? What
are we to think of a University where Heurtley and Stan-
ley are both canons of Christ Church, and Jowett and
Pusey both Professors ? Oxford is like France after the
Restoration. The Bourbon King and the Napoleon Code,
the times of the flood and the times of the Reformation ;
between them they have excluded deliberation, moderation,
harmony. I need not say I strongly sympathize with the
Jowetts and the Stanleys, but I know that when the ex-
citement of admiration for them is gone, we shall fall back
on the Wilberforces and the Puseys. In the seventeenth
century Oxford educated John Locke ; and she also burnt
his works as pestilent and seditious. The spirit of her
younger men is towards reason, liberality, reform ; but the
curse of Reuben is upon them, " Unstable as water, thou
ehalt not excel."

How, then, does Cambridge stand affected ? Cambridge
never has been in extremes. She never stood out either
as the mother of the bigoted tories or the fanatic radicals.
Her principle has been, as expressed in the mouths and

On the Cam. 259

works of her great men, to keep just in advance of the
times ; to lead in England ; never to be a long vf&y ahead,
and never the least behind the general sentiment of the
English nation ; and so is she at the present time. The
extreme High Church or Tractarian fever affected her but
slightly. Of course in a place containing so many inter-
esting archaeological and ecclesiastical monuments, and so
devoted to the Church, there were some violent Anglicans,
but there always was a strong basis of common sense to
put a check on their excesses. The Low Church clergy
have always flourished at Cambridge. These Calvinistic
divines, in England as in Holland, in France, and till
lately in America, are always on the side of liberal prin-
ciples, of progress ; though their reasoning may be narrow
and tortured, yet they are willing to reason somewhat,
whereas the High Church clergy steadily refuse to reason
at all. But the glory of Cambridge at the present day is
her divines of the Broad or Liberal section of the Church
proper, those who have not yet become convinced that her
articles and formulae need essential change, but who are
foremost in free criticism of the Scriptures, in laying aside
tradition and superstition, in raising the spirit above the
letter, in eagerness to demonstrate their faith on a rational
basis. Such are Ellicott, the most laborious and accurate
of all commentators on the text of the New Testament,
and Alford, less acute, less advanced, less free from servile
tradition, but still gentle, tender, Catholic, Christian. Such
in the last generation was that fearless inquirer into truth,
Julius Charles Hare, and that faithful and diligent student
of ecclesiastical history, knocking down unfounded tradi-
tions right and left, Archdeacon Hardvvick. Such a divine
is Vaughan, who, having given fifteen years of his life to
winning the hearts of boys to truth and purity, is devoting
the rest of it to teaching men and women the same noble
lessons ; such is Kingsley, about whom our opinion here
has changed so often, hot-headed, blundering, the blind
follower of whatever society he is last in, but still, through

260 On the Cam.

all his errors, aiming at love and liberty. Such a one is
a most accomplished and amiable man, who I was delighted
to see suggested for the vacant bishopric of Ely, the
diocese in which Cambridge stands, the Venerable Lord
Arthur Hervey, whose work on the Genealogies of our
Lord I wish thus publicly to commend to all students of
Scripture, as discussing a most perplexed question in the
light of new discoveries with unusual precision, acuteness,
and judgment. Such a one is Lightfoot, my own revered
and beloved college tutor, who is devoting the whole energy
of a mind of powers peculiarly various, vigorous, and fear-
less, to a new commentary on the Greek Testament, which
I venture to predict will in due time astonish the Christian
world by its learning, its intelligence, and its piety, and
prove him a worthy namesake of the revered orientalist.
From Cambridge, too, is that gentle soul, too holy and too
pure for the controversies of these times, who in the very
foremost and advanced rank of the divines of the Church,
is pleading with angelic energy for the emancipation of
truth and love from bigotry and calumny. Eeviled, in-
sulted, betrayed, may long years yet be in store for him of
victorious and honoured life, and ages to come shall assur-
edly weep tears of gratitude on the memory of that faithful
champion of Christ aud that true lover of his race, Frederick
Denison Maurice.*

It is to these men that Cambridge looks as the strength
of the Church. She has a few of the Revolutionary party
among her sons, Rowland "Williams and his fellow essayist
Goodwin, and the late lamented Donaldson. But it is not
from her that the forlorn hope will lead the assault and the
victorious general sound the onset on the tottering castle
of superstition. When the walls are crumbling and the
rums smoking it will be for her eloquent, prudent, wise men
to come forward, to repair the breaches with new and better

* This is a mistake. Exeter College, Oxford, claims the honour
here bestowed upon Cambridge. — ED.

On the Cam. 261

stone, to weave newer blazonry into the old standard, and
bid its sacred folds float over a widened, strengthened,
peaceful Church. For though the fiery invaders as well as
the immovable bigots are not from her, yet it is to her the
people of England look in the end for the faithful leaders
that are to guide their feet into the way of peace.

It is sometimes pleasant to close our thoughts of a trou-
bled, anxious state of affairs, with a contemplation of its
ludicrous side. About thirty years ago a young man of
St. John's College, Cambridge, took a very distinguished
mathematical degree, and at once devoted himself, as so
many do, to the duties of a clergyman of the Church of
England, together with those of an instructor in his favourite
branch of learning. He also wrote some elementary books,
which soon became popular, and every school in England
used the " Elements of Arithmetic and Algebra, by J. W.
Colenso." These good services procured him the honour-
able exile of a colonial bishopric. Meditating in his leisure
on the Old Testament, he became suddenly aware of diffi-
culties in the text, which any learned man in Germany or
America could have told him had long ago been recognized
and merely laid aside as not affecting the spirit. But the
poor man, being a bishop of the Church of England, was
quite amazed, and published them as startling novelties. A
storm of obloquy was at once poured on his head, and all
the thunders of such a Vatican as can be got up on short
notice at the Cape of Good Hope have been lately rattling
all around him. I cannot better illustrate the ludicrous
aspect of Church politics in England than by repeating to
you an Epic in the modern style, jointly composed by two
so-called scholars of Trinity, one of whom I know might
have been much better occupied.

" A bishop, of tastes arithmetical,
Endeavours to be exegetical;

So he rashly exposes

The errors of Moses,
And at once is condemned as heretical."

XII.

RELATIONS OF CAMBRIDGE, ENGLAND,
AND AMERICA.

The Universities and the Professions. — Middle-Class Examina-
tions.— The Universities Aristocratic. — Cambridge and Oxford
contrasted. — Cambridge the Liberal University, — English Opi-
nions of America. — Mutual Needs of the Two Countries. —
Concluding Stanzas.

HEN a traveller in some distant city has duly
surveyed all the objects of interest it contains,
has listened to every long-winded explana-
tion rattled off by his guide, paid every fee
for seeing what he didn't want to, and being
shown what he could see without ; when his head is filled
with a mass of images, some clear, some vague, but all
separate, just as he has made up his mind to leave for new
scenes and wonders, his footsteps will lead him into the
environs of the town. He will turn to some gentle emi-
nence, and, tired as he is, will cheerfully submit to the
ascent, that he may be rewarded by the prospect. And
lo ! that mass of buildings that seemed so senseless and
confused, ranges itself into shape and consistency. The
streets and squares map themselves out before him, the
spires rear themselves in graceful and decent supremacy
over the buildings given up to worldly cares ; the river
becomes no longer the turbid flood he crossed six or eight
times in hurrying from cathedral to garden, and from gal-
lery to prison, — it is the great artery which is carrying to
the extremities of the nation the life-blood of the nation's

On the Cam. 263

heart, — and this heart, the city itself, stands forth like a
queen on her throne, to bid the stranger, in the name of
the country, " hail and farewell." He casts his eyes all
around, to watch the fields standing thick with harvest or
purple with the vintage ; the loaded waggons toiling on to
pour the wealth of the farmers into the laps of the burghers ;
the stately mansions dotting the heights where the princes
of the land retreat in the heats of summer ; the lofty hills
that have survived a hundred civilizations looking down on
the whole. He reflects how the few acres of land, inhabited
by a few score thousand men, have become the concentration
of leagues and millions, whose line is gone out through all
the earth, and their words to the ends of the world. And
then, if he is an American, and his heart is not wholly
chilled or estranged, he will turn his eyes fondly westward,
and dream that in the mighty mass of clouds which the
setting sun is tingeing with tender green and gorgeous
crimson, he can see the hills of his own dear country; and
he feels his soul leap along that golden ray that has just
shot to his feet, and is uniting, with an electric flash, the
lovely land of his exile and the peerless nation of his
birth.

Ladies and gentlemen, — our six weeks' visit to Cam-
bridge is drawing to a close. You have kindly submitted
to my guidance through its maze of wonders and treasures,
its public halls and its private homes ; you have made the
acquaintance of some of its inhabitants and picked up some
of its phrases. Last Tuesday you spent an hour in that
form of foreign sight-seeing, which, though frequently
most curious, is always to me most tedious, its churches
and chapels. And now before we take our homeward
passage, let us go to the top of the Castle Hill, look back
upon all we have left, and raising our eyes to the fields
around, think not only what, but where Cambridge is,
what her relations are to the wonderful country to which
she belongs, and what Englishmen themselves think of
their mighty University. And then, at last, let our eyes

264 On the Cam.

take a westerly turn, and look along the chain which con-
nects every two countries on the earth. Perchance we
shall find that it is not, as some of us suppose, light as
gossamer, nor yet, as the same persons inconsistently
deem, forged of cankering iron, and stained with spots
of rust, or a yet angrier red ; but at once strong as the
hills and gorgeous as the sunbeams, links of the purest
gold, rivets of priceless jewels, never, never to be broken.
The relations of the Universities to the nation are not
in England exactly the same as they are in this country.
Oxford and Cambridge do not stand quite on the same
footing, as regards the professions, with Yale and Har-
vard. The chief aspect in which colleges are regarded
throughout this country is as the training for certain pro-
fessions called liberal. As far as the Church is concerned,
Cambridge and Oxford are even more important to Eng-
land than our colleges to us. In the profession of the
Law, also, there is about the same proportion there as here
of young men who first go through the University, and of
those who begin their law studies directly with nothing but
a school education. In the profession of medicine there is
a vast difference. Here, the majority of regular practi-
tioners have a University education ; there, it is, I think,
decidedly the reverse. The reason of this is, that the
medical profession does not stand on a level with the bar,
the pulpit, the senate, or the army, as a calling for young
gentlemen, and this it is which sends the prospective
physicians to be educated elsewhere. The University in
England is essentially an aristocratic institution, more so
even than here. The majority of persons who go there,
go to obtain the education of a gentleman. I do not mean
to say that there are not many, and many of the most dis-
tinguished of the University, who belong to the lower
classes. But they go to the University because it at once
puts them on a higher platform, because it gives them an
entrance into the Church, much more honourable than any
they can get elsewhere. The University or the military

On the Cam. 265

service of the country is the natural destination of all young
gentlemen, and you know how much that name means in
England, including the whole landed aristocracy, titled or
untitled. Neither the medical * nor the commercial pro-
fessions, what we call generally " business," are considered
proper for a young gentleman to engage in. The son of
a nobleman, a baronet, a large landed proprietor, a clergy-
man, must if possible go into the University or the army or
navy ; any other destination after his school life is closed is
derogatory. A few sons of bankers may be taken into their
fathers' counting-houses; a few persons interested in go-
vernment, who are in a very great hurry to make officials
of their sons, will give them a place in a government office
at once ; but as a rule, the civil life of all gentlemen is
begun at the University of Oxford or Cambridge. In par-
ticular, those who are to make Parliament, government
business, or diplomacy, the occupation of their life, — and
you will remember that in England men select these as the
occupation of their lives, without being dependent either on
popular election or oratorical ability, and without studying
any other profession, — always begin by acquiring that
knowledge of men, that practice in the ways of society,
that habit of getting information from voluminous works,
that practice in putting their knowledge on paper, which
nothing but a University can give. And hence you will
get an idea of the position that the Universities occupy in
England; they are not places of popular education, they
are not means for diffusing education among the people,
but they are the head-quarters of polite literature and
exact science, and the great training schools for the go-
verning classes. And this is so felt throughout England,

* This represents the feeling of thirty years ago, rather than the
present. The medical profession stands in far higher esteem in
England now than it did formerly, and the respect for its members
is daily increasing ; but young men who feel an aptitude for it must,
as a rule, commence their special training early, and that is the
reason why they do not frequent the Universities. — ED.

266 On the Cam.

that a farmer, or a country attorney, or a doctor in a small
town, feels that by sending his son to college he will give
him a rank among his fellow-citizens he never could have
had without, and give the name a new lustre that will go
far in accomplishing an Englishman's dearest wish, the
founding of a family.

The University, then, is rather an aristocratic than a
popular institution, as far as its direct education is con-
cerned. England, as is well known, is becoming a govern-
ment of the people more and more every day ; the popular
influences are constantly pressing harder on the old aristo-
cratic and royal establishments ; and one would naturally
suppose that this would diminish the credit in which the
Universities are held. And, to a certain extent, this is
true. Already the Church is thrown open to candidates
not from the Universities ; already the retaining attorneys
have ceased to value a barrister on his having taken a high
degree; already commerce, engineering, mechanical science,
are arrogating to themselves places on the list of liberal
occupations that the old professions are reluctantly obliged
to concede to them. Just at this crisis, just as one would
think that the old, abuse-eaten, expensive, exclusive Uni-
versities must give up the hold they have so long had on
the people of England, — just as some new instructors for
the people are loudly called for, they — the old, the worn-
out, the antediluvian — have stepped into the breach, and
declared, like King Richard to the mob, when their cham-
pion was slain, " We will be your instructors, we, your
Universities." It had long been conceded that the plan
of written examinations, at stated times, followed by pub-
lished lists of the success of the respective candidates, was
an excellent stimulus to study. Accordingly, the two
Universities appoint examinations all over the country, in
all the principal towns and cities. They choose, out of
their most eminent members, a large body of examiners.
Each draws up examination papers in his favourite subject:
not only in the chosen subjects of college instruction, the

On the Cam. 267

Ancient Languages and Mathematics, but in the Modern
Languages, French, German, and Italian ; in the Sciences,
Botany, and Zoology, and Geology, and Chemistry, and
Natural Philosophy ; in English Literature, and the de-
velopment of our language ; in Ancient and Modern His-
tory ; and in Music. To these examinations all persons,
producing proper certificates of age, &c, are cordially in-
vited ; they are examined in various classes, according
to the degree of proficiency they profess ; the results of
the examinations are published ; those who pass, with a
certain degree of credit, examinations of certain difficulty,
receive from the Universities the eminently pleasing and
honourable title of Associate in Arts, and are at once
marked out to the whole nation as young men who will do
credit to their teachers and employers. In this way, just
at the time when the credit and authority of Oxford and
Cambridge might be supposed to be diminishing, they
have leapt to their feet, clothed in all their ancient might,
and, like the combatants in the arena of old, cast a net of
affection and influence over all England, fine as silk, but
strong as steel. I know of no more noble effort ; whether
we consider the difficulty of assimilating old forms to new
men, or the prejudice against adapting essentially aristo-
cratic and exclusive institutions to all classes, or the reluc-
tance that men of letters, used to their dear old conventual
life, would naturally have to expend their treasures among
the people, and themselves go from town to town to assist
in their diffusion,— all these things being remembered, I
know, I say, of no more noble effort in the annals of edu-
cation, than the establishment, by Cambridge and Oxford,
of these Middle-Class Examinations.

You see in this system the old character of the Univer-
sity religiously preserved. It does not afford these candi-
dates instruction, but a stimulus to receive instruction ; not
teaching, but a test of teaching. It stretches its influence
over them, not so much coming down to them, as drawing
them to it. And it still preserves its old aristocratic cha-

268 On the Cam.

racier, — it does not make itself any more an institution of
the people, it makes, even in the degree it gives them, a
distinction between them and its own proper children, who
live in its walls ; and several, who in their youth have
passed these examinations, and been received Associates of
Arts, afterwards enter the University and take the regular
degree, as if dissatisfied with their partial reception into
the ranks of the learned.

Hence you see precisely the position held by the Uni-
versities,— offering their own instruction, in a course ex-
pensive, arduous, and in some respects exclusive, to all who
are able to avail themselves, they extend their authority as
autocrats of education over .the whole body of the English
people. This is essentially an aristocratic theory, how-
ever popularized it may be. It tends, in fact, to create and
to ratify formally an aristocracy of learning ; an aristocracy
to which any one is eligible, but to which when once elected,
he is separated from those who have not entered. There
is no law to prevent all the worshippers from forcing their
way to any part of the Temple, from the Court of the Gen-
tiles to the Holy of Holies, — but be his place at the moment
where he will, he is walled off for the time being, — walled
out from the select ones who have gone yet farther, while
the crowd beyond are walled out from him.

And while thus creating a class distinct from others, the
University goes yet farther, and keeps up its connection
with them through life. By its preference in all appoint-
ments to Church offices, or posts as school teachers ; by the
prior claim it gives for all government posts ; by the lucra-
tive and honourable offices in its own immediate gift, or that
of its colleges ; by the facility and pleasure of returning to
its walls, and the security of finding old friends still living
there at whatever age you return ; by its immediate con-
cern in Parliament and elections, — by all these the chil-
dren of the University are bound to their mother all over
England. When the clergyman in your parish begins the
service, you can tell at once from which University he

On the Cam. 269

comes by the colour of his silk hood, white and black for
Cambridge, red and black for Oxford. Yes, the University
spreads out her arms all over England, and drops the seed
of power and strength in its remotest corners, springing up
into the stateliest of trees, overtopping the lowlier plants.
In the halls of the legislature, the offices of state, the very
King's palace, — in the parish church and the school-room,
— in the heats of India, the snows of Canada, the wilds of
Australia, still we find her children, " wherever the chosen
race and sons of England worship " learning " they turn
their faces towards her."

" If she but stretch her hand
She heaves the gods, the ocean, and the land."

But though both the Universities are essentially aristo-
cratic, essentially institutions for the governing classes,- they
are of very different characters. The governing classes in
England maybe divided into two very distinct parts, which for
want of a better name, I may call the old and the new aris-
tocracy, though these names, like all such general appella-
tions, will not hold in all cases. The old aristocracy consists
of the old families, whether bearing noble titles or not, that
have been accustomed for centuries to hold rank as the gov-
erning class, and are slow to admit innovations in their
habits, or additions to their number. It comprehends nearly
that whole body of landed proprietors, who own the greater
part of the soil of England, and to some extent still cling to
the theory that England, the whole country, belongs to them ;
that a man who owns ten acres of land has actually more
right to enjoy the institutions of the country than a man who
owns two, no matter what the comparison may be in other
respects.

The new aristocracy consists of those who are forcing
themselves every year into the ranks of the old, by wealth
acquired in trade or commerce, by distinction at the bar, or,
by sheer force of character and strength of mind, ousting
from their seats the old effete houses that have run their

270 On the Cam.

race, and ceased to be of use. You might not be able to tell
the difference between the two classes on a mere sight of their
houses and estates ; but the least intercourse with them, the
least practice in their ways of talking, would show you that
the power of the English government, the authority which
for eight centuries has been connected with wealth and here-
ditary rank, is no longer in the hands of a single, united
body, but that the old nobility, — including quite as much the
squirearchy, the country gentlemen without title, as the peer-
age,— has yielded very much ground to a new set of men who
have risen to their places, some by one means, some by ano-
ther, but all in virtue of the new English civilization, as differ-
ent from the old as the royal family now on the throne is dif-
ferent from the Stuarts. It is this that has preserved the
aristocracy, the nobility, the landed gentry so long, and is
likely to preserve it so much longer, — that as one by one the
old families become effete, a new set of men, born of the peo-
ple, come in to take their places. In some cases, the new
men insensibly fill exactly the places of the old ; like the
Norman nobles who went to Ireland, and became more Cel-
tic than the Celts themselves ; they become more noble than
the nobility, more conservative than the conservatives. This
is eminently true of pure parvenus, men who suddenly ac-
quire large fortunes by doubtful means, who are enabled by one
bound from obscurity to step into large estates ; they ape not
only the style of living, but the style of thinking and talking
of the old aristocracy, change a good plain Saxon name for a
Norman one, to which everybody knows they have no right,
and talk about the Conqueror, as if they were the king-mak-
ing Neville himself. But those who, without such freaks of
fortune, have risen by steady industry and force of character
to take their place among the magnates of the land, gene-
rally show that they are of another breed than the haughty
peers that sought to hold both houses of Parliament as their
own appanage in 1832.

We may then fairly draw this somewhat rough line of
distinction in the whole English aristocracy, — the whole class

On the Cam. 271

from whom the Universities are recruited ; and there can be
uo doubt that in general the first, the old aristocracy, chiefly
patronize Oxford ; the second, the new aristocracy, hold by
Cambridge. Not, of course, invariably ; many of the great
baronial houses have been for centuries devoted to Cam-;
bridge, — Howards and Cavendishes and Spencers and Fitz-
williams ; and much of the new blood, that has only been
allowed to flow in legislative veins for a few years, gets its last
touch of refinement and spiritualization in the foundations of
Cardinal "VVolsey and William of Wykeham. But take all
England through, count the whole body of that wondrous
upper class which has for so long maintained an undaunted
front against despotism, against democracy, against invasion,
— that class to which the middle rank look with admiration
and awe, the proletarians with dread and hatred, extending
as it does from the fox-hunting baron or earl, whose remote
ancestor stripped the crown from some imbecile Plantagenet,
up ordownas youplease, to the renowned lawyer whose father
was abarber or a blacksmith, — of all this great class the wing
attached to conservatism and the world that is past finds ita
congenial atmosphere in Oxford ; the wing devoted to pro-
gress and the new world of thought is faithful to Cam-
bridge. This is the allowed, the universal reputation of the
two Universities, — Oxford the conservative, Cambridge the
progressive ; Oxford the tory, Cambridge the whig ; Ox-
ford the loyal or the Jacobite, Cambridge the revolutionary
or the Hanoverian. If Oxford has sometimes stood, as in
1688, on the side of progress and emancipation, it is be-
cause the hand of tyranny was laid on her vested rights that
she sought to preserve. If Cambridge, as in the rebellion
of 1715, sided with the court, the high nobility, the estab-
lished order of things, it was because the established order
of things was on the side of liberty, and the revolutionists
aimed at the revival of tyranny. We can well conceive of
such an inversion, — we know that a loud cry of chivalry
and aristocracy may well be the watchword of rebellion, and
that the devoted friend of progress and republicanism may

272 On the Cam.

give his life to uphold order and law. At the time of the
Pretender's rebellion, the king quartered some troops at
Oxford, at the same time that he made a present of books to
Cambridge. An Oxford muse, smarting under the imputa-
tion of disloyalty to the upstart German house, perpetrated
this epigram on the two royal acts.

" Our royal master saw, with equal eyes,
The wants of both his Universities ;
Troops he to Oxford sent, and reason why, —
That learned body wanted loyalty ;
But sent his books to Cambridge, as discerning
That that right loyal body wanted learning."

Sir William Browne, a distinguished Cambridge scholar,
seeing deeper into the real feeling of the two institutions,
and knowing full well what the habits and minds of Oxford
men were, answered it by this still more condensed and pithy
verse.

" The king to Oxford sent his troop of horse,
For Tories own no argument but force ;
With equal care to Cambridge books he sent,
For Whigs allow no force but argument."

Yes ! It is not always safe to take the opinion of a
corporate body about itself ; but if there is one thing cer-
tain in the history of England, if there is one thing con-
ceded by all parties, it is that Cambridge is the Whig
University, the Liberal University, the home of advanced
principles of government in all ages. I know that at Ox-
ford there are abundance, particularly at this very moment,
of noble and liberal-minded men. Perhaps at this instant.
the views of her leaders are somewhat in advance of those of
Cambridge. I know, too, that at Cambridge is many an
old Tory, and bigoted divine. But on the whole, in the ag-
gregate, the spirit of progress, the spirit of liberty, the spirit
of free thought, that bids defiance to musty enactments,
and antiquated ideas, and effete principles and abuses, —

On the Cam. 273

this spirit, which, with all her prejudices, with all her obsti-
nacy, with all her arrogance, is still the glory of England, —
this heavenly spirit still breathes strong and clear from the
airy courts of Trinity, it sounds like a rushing mighty wind
across the valley of the Cam, it peals in celestial tones from
the organ of King's.

I need no better proof of this than the consideration of
the present ministry and opposition in England. Lord
Derby, the only leader under whom the Tories have a chance
of power, is Chancellor of the University of Oxford. Lord
Palmerston, the only man who can hold together all sections
of the Liberal party, was formerly in Parliament from the
University of Cambridge. I know I shall be told that Mr.
Gladstone, the liberal Chancellor of the Exchequer, is mem-
ber for the University of Oxford,* and that Spencer Wai-
pole, the Secretary for the Home Department under Lord
Derby, is member for the University of Cambridge. But I
know also that when Mr. Gladstone left Oxford, he left it an
arrant Tory, and that his views have undergone a steady
modification in the liberal direction, and Iknowthat Spencer
Walpole is the most liberal and advanced of the conserva-
tive party, and sadly out of place with such antediluvians
as his coadjutors.

Yes, let me repeat again, till the halls ring with the de-
lightful sound, Cambridge is the liberal University, Cam-
bridge is the camp from which the blast of progress has
pealed through the ages. In all time it is from her that
have come forth the great leaders in the successive steps for
the emancipation of the English mind. And she shall
stand so still. Whatever temporary wave of bigotry may
roll over her, whatever sudden cry of fanaticism may be
raised in her streets, still those grey halls, those sunny
court-yards, those re-echoing cloisters, those heaven-kiss-
ing pinnacles, and the sovereign authority that resides in

* One might imagine that Oxford had ejected her late member
expressly to lend some colour to these remarks. — ED.

274 On the Cam.

them, shall be kept forever the sanctuary of liberty, " the
sacred temple consecrated to our common faith." And to
her the nation shall look for wisdom. To her in England's
darkest hour, when intolerance or superstition or corruption
seek, under the name of conservatism, to let the grand edi-
fice of her liberty decay and crumble, to let the gorgeous
folds of the old standard of freedom that has braved so
many storms, fall in worn-out shreds from the mast, then
to Cambridge shall the nation look for protection and
strength, for the eloquent orator and the upright judge, the
counsellor and leader of the people of England.

Here might I pause. Here, having led you to the
mountain-top, and bid you survey all the country round, I
might leave you. But my last words strike in my breast
a chord, to which, I know, yours vibrate responsively. The
people of England ! "Who are they, and what are they to
us?

Those persons who, in our counti-y, at the present day,
find themselves aggrieved by what they conceive the opin-
ion held by the people of England on American affairs, are
accustomed to hold and aver two very distinct and, to my
mind, inconsistent views. First, that the opinion of the
people of England is based on falsehood, built up by preju-
dice and injustice, and animated by malice and hatred, and,
consequently, should create in us a hostile feeling towards
them ; the particular degree of hostility, whether coldness,
contempt, dislike, rage, being in each special case dictated
by the education, the temperament, or the interests of the
individual. Secondly, — and how this view consorts with
the other I cannot see, — that the opinion of the people of
England is nothing to us ; that they know nothing of us,
and if they did, they are incompetent, by the very constitu-
tion of the national soul, to form a correct opinion of us ;
that it is our own duty, as free citizens of the Western Re-
public, to put out of view altogether the contemptible and
conceited quibblings of these insignificant king-ridden
islanders (for by this time our controversialist begins to get

On the Cam. 275

abusive). Now, ladies and gentlemen, either the opinion of
the English people is valuable, or it is not. Eeject it, if you
will, as not worth considering under any circumstances ;
but, in that case, you must not be elated by their praise, any
more than distressed by their censure. Or accept it as a
serious matter. Then if you find it hostile, you may be
indignant, you may be grieved, you may be haughty, but
you cannot be contemptuous. You cannot say, England's
opinion is valuable when she praises us, but worthless when
she condemns us. My own opinion is this : — The views
of the people of England are of importance to us. We
cannot reject them as worthless. The position of England
to the other nations of the earth and to ourselves is such,
that whether just or unjust, laudatory or condemnatory, we
must listen to them. If just, we should accept their ap-
proval as a most gratifying tribute, and their censure as a
most serious warning ; and if unjust, we should work with
all our might to modify the erroneous basis, and the preju-
diced inference. We cannot set the opinion of such a na-
tion aside as of no consequence. But waiving that point
for a moment ; what do I think of the views themselves ?
Are they just or unjust, laudatory or condemnatory ? The
answer is not so simple as good people here believe. Let
us consider each class in England separately.

The old aristocracy are almost to a man against us.
Their feeling to us is, and always has been, an entire dis-
approval of the whole American civilization. We may
prosper, but we have no right to prosper. Providence
may, if he will, preserve in peace and plenty those who
habitually violate his principles of government, but that
does not make them the less his enemies. All the ele-
ments of our Constitution, — elective sovereigns, frequent
rotation in office, the entire abolition of hereditary dis-
tinctions, and of property qualification, avowed silence of
the Constitution on everything relating to religion ; all
these things are as alien to the high aristocracy of Eng-
land as the government of Dahomey or Japan, — perhaps

276 On the Cam.

more so. They cannot wish such a nation true prosperity ;
they cannot want such a set of arch-heretics in political
theology to succeed. The question of slavery makes very
little difference. With some extremists it may modify,
with others increase the hatred ; but slaveholders or not,
we are all sinners alike. Anything is good that breaks up
such a nest of basilisks ; and, if they must decide between
two evils, why, they rather prefer the South : they are
country gentlemen, with some notion of aristocracy and
the predominance of the landed interest. These noble
ladies and gentlemen are in ignorance of many things
about us ; but if they were better informed, it would only
increase their dislike. They may be civil to the country,
and friendly to individuals ; but they can no more agree
to, or approve of anything we do, than a Republican of
1835 could approve of General Jackson, or a Republican
of 1855 approve of Judge Douglas.

It should be said that these old people hardly like Eng-
land better than America. They have only just got over
the Reform Bill, they shudder at the Corn Laws, and go
into hysterics over measures for the further relief of Dis-
senters.

I said that as extremes always meet, the parvenus, men
raised to wealth from a very low position, often by equi-
vocal means, sided as much as possible with the high aris-
tocracy. In this case it is very true. They are against
us, not from motives of principle, — they have no principle,
— but purely from interest. The American commerce
interfered with their gains, the American cargoes began
to underbid their shipments, consequently they want this
pestilent prosperity broken up at once, how they care not.*

We next come to the second division of the governing
classes, the progressives ; the Whig families, whether high

* Mr. Everett is not often unjust; on many points he is only
too charitable ; but here he is somewhat blinded by natural anger.
A few very shallow individuals maybe selfish and short-sighted to
this extent, but they do not represent a class. — ED.

On the Cam. 277

aristocracy or only gentry, those men whose foresight,
whose prudence, whose liberality have again and again
saved the fabric of English liberty from crumbling for want
of new stones and mortar. I mean men who would accept
Lord Russell and Cornewall Lewis as their leaders. How
are they disposed to us ? I regret to say, not much more
favourably than the former. For what they have done for
England, they deserve infinite credit. One after another
they have succeeded in removing abuses that were a dis-
grace to her state, they have incurred obloquy of all kinds
for so doing, they have exposed themselves to the fire of
bigots on one side and fanatics on the other, and they
have steadily persevered in their great work, to adapt
existing constitutions to new crises, and thus make the
whole world of England advance without destroying the
harmony of its parts. For these great reforms they de-
serve our highest admiration. But this is all. Having
devoted themselves so long to considering the resources
and needs of the English government and constitution,
they have in a manner ceased to comprehend those of any
other country. They would assimilate every country on
earth to England, and they cannot seem to understand
why every country does not instantly assimilate its consti-
tution to that of England. They cannot recognize how,
without for a moment seeking to disparage the value of the
English road to liberty, there may not be a French, a
German, an Italian, an American road to liberty, each
peculiar for the same reason that gives the peculiarity to
all roads, that each starts from its own point. For in-
stance, they allowed forty years to pass after France
abolished slavery, before they did the same. But the
moment they had abolished it, not a day passed without a
tirade against America for not abolishing it, though they
could suffffest no possible method. And because it was

•

not abolished then, they have been slow to believe it is to
be now. And thus, because the other nations of the world,
and especially the United States, differ in some principles

278 On the Cam.

of government, or details of administration from England,
their policy is habitually condemned by men just as fond
of liberty as we are ! In regard to the present war, their
idea is very curious. They are never able to understand
an incident or a jcharacter in foreign history, Greek, Ro-
man, French, American, till they have found a parallel to
it in English history. Thus they read, in Grote and
Merivale, not of Demosthenes and Cicero, but of Mr. Fox
or Lord Erskine. So the parallel had to be found for
secession. The nearest they could find was the Revolu-
tionary War. Now the liberal party in England have
just come to the conclusion, to which Horace Walpole
came ninety years ago, that the American colonies were
tyrannically treated, and were right in declaring indepen-
dence. So, having found their darling parallel, being
propped right up by a precedent, they will have everything
give way, all differences are of minor importance, and be-
cause Buttrick and Harrington were in the right in firing
on Major Pitcairn's battalion, Beauregard and Pickens
were right in shelling Fort Sumter !

From these two classes then, both divisions of the great
governing body of England, we have as yet little sympathy
to expect. The first could not sympathize with us under
any circumstances, the latter cannot accept us as coadju-
tors in the cause of universal liberty, because we refuse to
be servants in the universal distribution of English liberty.
In other words, nearly the entire body of the governing class
in England feels a want of faith in us, in our principles,
our methods, our intentions. We commonly say they are
ignorant of us, — so they are, but I suspect when the war
broke out, we were quite as liable to make Uimders about
our geography as they. I know we were about our poli-
tical history. It is that they feel a species of general dis-
trust in us all, that prevents their either seeking fuller
information, or when they have it, using it aright. And
it is not till they can be made to believe in us, that they
can be made to appreciate us.

On the Cam. 279

But there are two classes in England that I would op-
pose to these, because I believe them to be truly our
friends. And first I refer to the middle class of England,
— the great body of the people above the rabble of prole-
tarians, and below the ruling class, yet constantly rising
into it, constantly recruiting it, spread throughout the
whole country, and forming, as is constantly the boast of
those who deliver panegyrics on England, the real strength
of the country. These men, when the war broke out, and
for some time after, accepted the views of North and South
that were so loudly and constantly forced upon them from
above. But they are a set of men naturally impatient of
control ; they have always felt, even in the moments when
they seem most servile, a rivalry and opposition to the
aristocracy, and they determined to think for themselves.
Ladies and gentlemen, when a great body of men, unde-
terred by hereditary creeds, by political prejudices, by
greedy self-interest, resolves to think for itself about the
American war, can you doubt what the result will be?
Can you doubt what they will think ? The manufactures
• in Lancashire stopped. The cotton brokers in Liverpool
told the mill-owners that the United States were shutting
off the supplies, and they believed them. Bat when in a
year they found that while their wheels were still, and their
looms silent, and their children starving, that these disin-
terested cotton traders were making fortunes, selling and
reselling cotton a score of times without ever removing it
from the wharf,— then they indignantly shook off the
shackles of such dense dictation, and now the great heart
of the cotton district of Manchester and Bolton is beating
in harmony with that of Lowell and Lawrence.

But there is another class that also, I believe, thinks
with us,— a class that is removed above the influence of the
governing class ; a class to which, as I stated in a former
lecture, every nation must look for its real glory, and every
University for its most valuable representatives, the class
of literary men, the writers, the thinkers. England with

280 On the Cam.

all her many claims to honour, with all the douhtful spots
in her history, will challenge the world to produce a litera-
ture more varied, more solid, more brilliant. When I
therefore express my sincere conviction, derived from con-
versation, from reading, from association, that the great
body of literary men, those who, not content with possess-
ing valuable information and sound learning themselves,
have taken up the glorious work of transmitting it to the
people, of handing on the sacred fire, — that these are with
us, — I hope you will see what a noble body of allies is
ours, and what a glorious augury we have that the heart
and sense of England in time will be ours as well.

Yes, a glorious augury ; for there is no dearer hope in
the breast of every faithful American than that we shall in
due time extort the meed of approbation and sympathy
from England. You perceive, fellow citizens, I am not
one of those who affect to slight or disregard the support
and friendship of the English people, — no, we cannot do
without them, — we cannot tread our pathway alone. In
this great work we have chosen to stand forth as the cham-
pions of freedom against oppression, of progress against
bigotry, of truth against falsehood, of the new civilization
against the old. However gratifying such an attempt
might be to our national vanity, we cannot woi'k alone.
No one nation can convert the world, no one nation can
force the reluctant despotisms and oligarchies into the
way of truth. Somewhere, in some part of the world, we
must find a coadjutor, a helper, a brother. Somewhere
there must be another nation to which we can look for
support, to feel that while we are combating the powers of
sin on one side, they are crushing them under the other,
that while the Malakhoff of error is crumbling beneath our
shot and shell, its Redan is slippery with the blood of their
charging legions; and that when the last foe lays down
his arms before us, and our victorious but weary hosts are
starting to their feet at the peal of another bugle, we shall
recognize in its tones not the challenge of an advancing

On the Cam. 281

enemy, but the triumphant blast of a returning friend.
Where are you to look for this ally? in what nation will
you find your natural, your heart's friend? In France,
scarce healed from the blows of her revolution, and bleed-
ing with fresh wounds from the hand of the craftiest of
tyrants and the falsest of usurpers ? In Italy, that is only
just struggling into union through a thousand perils, and
looks to you not as a companion and ally, but a guide, a
patron, a guardian, among the clashings of stronger powers?
In Germany, split into a score of petty states, wasting her
noble nationality in baseless speculations and worthless
wranglings ? In Russia, cursed with the most unrestrained
despotism of the age, and fighting at this moment against
law and justice ? O, my friends, it is not possible, it is
not true that you can be so " lost to all feeling of your
true interest and your national dignity," as to " seek that
weed that grows in every soil," when in that one glorious
country is to be found what you so much need. Take the
warning Schiller puts in the mouth of the old counsellor of
the Tells and StaufFachcrs of Switzerland : —

" 0 lerne fulilen, welches Stamms du bist !
Wirft nicht, fiir eiteln Glanz und Flitterschein
Die echte Perle dienes Vortheils bin ! "

There she stands, the dear old country, the home of your
fathers, the home of your brethren, — the land of the
Hampdens and the Cromwells and the Miltons, of the
Pitts, the Burkes, the Erskines, — the home of our com-
mon freedom, of our common truth, of our common justice
and law, of our common language, of our common blood.
O never, never, let the accursed serpent of calumny infuse
his foul poison into your ears, and fill your blood with his
leperous distilment to the rejection of such blessings.

Fellow citizens, there is a work, a mighty work for the
united action of England and America. Let all the orators
of both countries come forward to repeat the glorious destiny
awaiting either one of them. Let them count over every

282 On the Cam.

tender memory, and every brilliant hope known to either,
let them pile up the colossal structure of their towering
climaxes to enshrine the lesson of national duty, — let them
recount every state or every colony acknowledging the
sway of either, from the Mackenzie River to Norfolk
Island, from the mouth of the Columbia round eastward to
the China Sea, over which either country is bound to dif-
fuse her national blessings, — and their united eloquence
will not realize a tithe of the glories that await the action
of the united nations. What power on earth can resist
two such mighty energies, leading to some future Chat-
tanooga of liberty the whole vast army of the Saxon name,
in one unbroken charge along the entire line, circling the
flanks, right and left at once, breasting the heights, crush-
ing through the rifle-pits, and thundering down the farther
slope on the scattering rabble of darkness ?

But such metaphors are all too weak to express the
glory that will attend the united action of the whole Eng-
lish race. When two such flames join, the blaze will be
like the sun himself over the whole heavens ; and already
the day is at hand. Already Aurora is opening the gates of
the morning, already the hours are making ready the glit-
tering car, and, when the sun of liberty himself issues, to
drive his majestic course along the starry zodiac of the
ages, amid the gorgeous galaxy of the nations, he will
yoke to his resistless chariot the two unrivalled steeds, that
even now are snuffing the keen fresh air of the morning,
and beating impatiently against the barrier, England and
America,

" Two coursers of imperial race
With necks in thunder clothed, and long-resounding pace."

Ladies and Gentlemen, — As my course of lectures
draws to a close, I thank you most heartily for the atten-
tion and sympathy I have uniformly experienced from you.
I invite you to give that same sympathy and attention to a
. few lines embodying the idea of my last few sentences, in

On the Cam. 283

earnest that the hopes experienced at the beginning of my
course have been fulfilled.

ENGLAND AND AMERICA.

Ye cannot break the cord of gold

That binds in one the sister lands ;
Unharmed by man the links will hold,

When God hath forged their glittering bands.
Though every fiend that hell hath screened,

In falsehood's foulest gloom involved,
Tugged at the chain with might and main,

It cannot, shall not be dissolved.

No ! By that blood whose crimson tide

The breasts of each to manhood warms ; —
No ! By that speech which either side

Repeats alike in myriad forms ; —
No ! By each name, to each the same,

Of child, or hill, or town, or river,
Still hers, still ours, ye guardian powers

Our hearts from doubt and strife deliver !

By every fight for freedom fought,

By every song for freedom sung,
By every right so dearly bought,

By stalwart arm or silver tongue ; —
By all the past, our friendship fast

Nor time shall change, nor ocean sever,
By all the hopes the future opes

Her triumphs shall be ours for ever.

Yes, we will love thee ! Though the cloud

Of dark detraction dim the skies ;
Though slander's trumpet, bellowing loud,

Assault our faith with countless lies.
Though cold and strange, through chance and change,

Still turn thy brothers' hearts to thee ;
Firm may'st thou stand, our sister land,

Our beacon light across the sea !

APPENDIX.

I.

OLDEK AND YOUNGER STUDENTS.
(LECTURE V.)

OON after the fifth of these lectures was
delivered, I was favoured with some criti-
cisms by a young friend on that portion of
it in which the treatment of younger by
older students in English and American
colleges is compared. The criticisms are two in number,
and of very different weight and character. I am told,
first, that I have instituted an unfair comparison between
English and American colleges ; that I should compare
American colleges and English public schools, and that at
these latter there exists a system — fagging — which affords
a reasonable parallel to the treatment of younger classes
complained of in America : secondly, that the treatment
objected to is really no source of pain or suffering to the
younger class ; that, being meant as a joke, it is almost
always taken as one, and recognized as an institution that
the Freshmen themselves would not wish abolished.

I am not aware what my critic's sources of information
on English Public Schools are. While I lived in England,

286 Appendix.

I was very intimate with a large number of teachers and
pupils iu them, and made constant inquiries as to their mode
of life, which were very freely answered, and I have arrived
at a conclusion directly opposite to my critic's. The com-
parison between English schools and American colleges
has certain superficial resemblances to support it, but a
thorough knowledge of both entirely removes it. The
system of fagging differs toto ccelo from that of practical
joking as practised here. Four points may be enumerated
in support of this statement : — 1st. Fagging is exercised
by the oldest pupils on the youngest, the middle portion of
the school being neither servants nor masters ; 2nd. It
consists in specified services yielded by the younger in
return for protection and defence by the older against bul-
lying, and it is in all cases expected and required that this
protection should be asked and obtained ;* 3rd. The ser-
vices and requirements are reduced to a well-understood
system, beyond which nothing can be exacted, in order to
guard against individual caprice ; 4th. The whole system
is with the consent and under the control of the masters,
constituting a regular feudal aristocracy, where the master
is lord paramount, and the great vassals exercise lordship
and protection over the less. This applies to Rugby,
Harrow, and other great schools modelled on them. At
Eton, the system, particularly in respect of the authority
of the elder boys being derived from the master's, is not
so accurately laid out, but a series of immemorial customs
is almost as efficient in preventing systematic bullying and
keeping authority within bounds. A more complete con-
trast to Harvard can hardly be imagined. The old system
of Freshman servitude and Senior protection is somewhat
analogous to it, but, as is well known, the very name of
that has ceased for half a century ; that system fell from
an inherent weakness from which the English schools are

* The informant who gave Mr. Everett this picture of our fag-
ging system laid on the rose colour rather thick. — ED.

Appendix. 287

free, the admission of the Sophomores, the middle portion
of the school, the part just free from the servitude, to a
share in authority, which they of all others were most
likely to abuse.

But in truth no such elaborate contrast need be drawn,
for the two sets of institutions are not to be compared.
The English schools are for boys. Their inhabitants study
like boys, play like boys, talk and think like boys, as boys
they are and wish to be treated, and if their fagging or any
other part of their life took the form of practical joking,
it would be excused or punished as a boy's failing. If
you called them young men, they would suspect a joke
and not relish it either. Our colleges claim to be attended
by young men, who are very proud of having taken the
first step on the path of manhood, and they assert and re-
ceive privileges accorded to none but young men. Let
them beware then how they give as a precedent for their
actions the conduct of a boys' school, and boast of their
boyish tastes.

Secondly, I am told that the persecution of the Fresh-
men is not by them regarded as persecution at all, but as
a joke, and a good one ; that, in fact, to use the words of
my young critic, " They rather like it." To this there
are many answers. First, the Freshmen are not the only
persons whose opinion should rule in this matter. The
governing authorities of the college to whom its proprietors
commit its internal discipline ; the parents who have sent
their sons to it, and can surely claim a voice in the treat-
ment they are to experience ; the community which has
laws on its statute book against breaking, and entering,
and assault and battery ; all these are quite as much to be
taken into council as the Sophomores and Freshmen.
Secondly, the fact that the Freshmen are content or pleased
to be the victims of a system of practical joking only
proves a very poor state of things at college. There are
plenty in China who will literally give their heads for a
good smoke of opium. It is with the greatest difficulty

288 Appendix.

that Indian widows are prevented from mounting their
husbands' funeral piles. But these cases are generally
thought to prove the degradation of the countries, not the
propriety of suicide, real or constructive. Third, I deny
the fact. I have no doubt the Freshmen in most cases
submit and make the best of it, because it is the instinct
of all young men to submit unflinchingly where they can-
not prevent. I know also that they never complain,
because to complain would involve " telling," that highest
crime in the youthful code. But putting false courage
and false honour out of the question, to assert that they
like their persecution, that they regard it for instance as
the " Foxes" at a German University are supposed to like
their initiation into the company of the " Burschen,"
shows either wilful perversion or gross ignorance of facts.
Suppose we had the state of things which exists in Eng-
land ; suppose the Sophomores for the whole of the first
term devoted themselves to making the Freshman's path
easy ; invited him to social entertainments where he was
not made to pay, gave him useful information about col-
lege, made him a member of their clubs at an early stage,
and encouraged and helped him in every way, would the
Freshman sigh for the old state of things, and envy the
Cadets at West Point for their happiness in possessing a
set of kind elders, who treated them to delightful jokes ?

For these reasons I have left the passage as it was de-
livered ; and I wish it distinctly understood that my
remarks have no connection with any that have appeared
elsewhere, and particularly with no newspaper editor or
writer.

Appendix.

289

II.

DIFFEEENT COLLEGES.
(LECTUBE VII.)

I APPEND a list of the colleges at Cambridge, with the
date of their foundation and founders' names : —

St. Peter's, or Peterhouse, 1257,

Clare,
Pembroke,

Gonville and Caius,
Trinity Hall,

Corpus Christ!,
King's,

Queens',

St. Catherine's,

Jesus,

Christ's,
St. John's,

Magdalene,
Trinity,
Emmanuel,
Sidney Sussex,
Downing,

1326,
1347,
1348,
1558,
1350,

1352,
1441,
1448,
1465,
1473,

1496,

1505,
1511,

1519,
1546,
1584,
1598,
1800,

Hugh de Balsam, Bishop of

Ely.

Lady Elizabeth Clare.
Countess of Pembroke.
Edmund Gonville.
John Kaye, or Caius.
William Bateman, Bishop of

Norwich.

Two Guilds. in Cambridge'.
King Henry VI.
Queen Margaret of Anjou.
Queen Elizabeth Widville.
Eobert Wodelark, Chancel-
lor.

John Alcock, Bishop of Ely.
C Lady Margaret Somerset,
< Countess of Richmond and
( Derby.

Thomas, Lord Audley.
King Henry VIII.
Sir Walter Mildmay, Kt.
Sidney Lady Sussex.
Sir Geo. Downing, Bart.

Several of these foundations, St. John's, Christ's, and
Trinity for instance, absorbed those of older colleges ;
Trinity in particular occupies the site of King's Hall,
founded by King Edward III. and St. Michael's, or
Michael House, by Hervy de Stanton, in the same reign.

290 Appendix.

III.

EXPENSES.
(LECTURE X.)

I HAVE often been asked what is the annual expense of
living at Cambridge. It is very difficult to answer this
question, owing to the large part of every year spent away
from the University, and the very considerable pecuniary
assistance which many of those, otherwise in very easy
circumstances, derive from their place of birth or early
training. I believe, however, it would be generally agreed
that any student with an income of less than two hundred
pounds a year would have to economize in many points
where he saw his intimate friends spending freely ; and
that any one with more than three hundred pounds would
be distinctly classed among the richer men. One might
infer from this that two hundred and fifty pounds a year
was the average income : but this ambiguous expression is
strongly calculated to mislead. It struck me that only a
small part of the undergraduates spent anything near this
average ; the larger number were quite poor, dependent
on various benefactions from school or college, and living
very economically ; or else quite rich, stinting themselves
in very little, and thinking hardly at all of the future.
Perhaps the least deceptive statement would be that any
young man with an income of two hundred and fifty pounds
a year could live surrounded by comforts, and what to
American students would be luxuries, for the scale of
living is certainly higher in England ; that with an income

Appendix. 291

either less or greater, he would have to practise great care,
unless it were very much greater, in order to make his
means square with the style of associates to which his ante-
cedents would probably introduce him.

THE END.

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